


And they were ROOMMATES

by HesTheKingOfSomewhere



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Angst, Drug Dealing, Explicit Sexual Content, General Shenanigans, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Italian Mafia, Light Torture, M/M, Organized Crime, Roommates, Smoking, Underage Drinking, race is engaged whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HesTheKingOfSomewhere/pseuds/HesTheKingOfSomewhere
Summary: Roommates is a metaphor. Race's family runs a major crime organisation, and their arch-nemesis is back and probably going to kill everyone. Race has been sent to The World boarding school to work, play, and definitely not hook up with cute guys on the football team. Lots of background relationships, though David does play a decent part as he is Race's roommate. Lots of drug mentions, some sexual content, plenty of dumbasses.





	1. Chapter 1

Race double-checked his phone. No messages. He knew that this was a good thing, no news-good news and all, but it still made him anxious. He’d been on edge the past few weeks. Scratch that, he’d been on edge since he was 13, now he was teetering over said edge. God, he needed a drink, or a smoke, or a line. Race looked over at his roommate, David. He was a good kid, and at the moment was concerned for Race’s health.

“ _You look stressed_ ” he had said, about a week ago

“ _Finals, this physics exam is going to kick my ass_ ” It was a lousy excuse, Race was a genius when it came to anything math related, but he couldn't exactly tell David:

“ _Oh yeah, it’s just that my father’s nemesis has showed up out of the blue and might try to kill me because my family, y’know, the Bellaccio crime family, cheated him and his gang out of a few million dollars in cocaine, but, you don't have to worry, unless i get a text from my bodyguard, which means Pulitzer is on his way, in which case panic all you like_ ”

So Race tried to act like he was a normal teenager, going to class, watching movies, sneaking out with his friends, but the ever present fear kept him on his toes. You’d think that since finding out about the reality of his family business at age 13, he would've gotten use to knowing that there were plenty of people that wanted him dead and had the means to do it, and to an extent, he had. It was when they were at defcon 1 and he couldn't tell his friends about the danger, that got to Race. One of his greatest fears was Race just disappearing one day and his friends never finding out what actually happened or why.

“Are you coming?” David’s crisp voice cut through Race’s thoughts. David stood by the door, backpack slung over one shoulder. It took Race a second to reconnect to reality.

“Right. Yes!” Race jumped off his bed and grabbed a hoodie off of the floor.

“That’s my sweater.” David squinted his eyes and the shorter boy. Race smirked

“Good observation. All of mine smell like an ashtray and everyone thinks we’re screwing anyway.” Race explained, knowing it would make David blush, and he was right, David was a tomato. It was just a rumour, and there were rumours like that about nearly every pair of roommates, the consequences of an all-male boarding school. They were headed to Jack and Crutchie’s weekly movie night. Now that was a pair that was most definitely screwing. Jack’s bed looked like no one had slept in it in months, and he wasn't the kind to meticulously make his bed every morning. No one was bothered by the relationship, the general rule at World Prep was that most teenage boys had needs, and if they could have those needs met consensually, there was no problem, as long as it was kept a private affair, the school couldn't very well endorse these relationships without major lashback from parents. Race knew that if he parents knew about the happenings at World he would get pulled out in a heartbeat. Not that he had been a part of any “happenings” all year. David had kind of put an end to that. Before David had transferred, Race had had a single room and was free to get up all kinds of “happenings”, now he just listened to David lament about how beautiful Jack’s- sorry _This One Girl_ ’s eyes were.

“Oh, apparently Jack invited some guys from Kennedy Dorm, because apparently we don't socialize enough with other dorms.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.” Race scoffed. In his humble opinion, the guys from Kennedy tended to be douchebags. Each dorm had its thing. Their dorm, Roosevelt, was mostly rich smart kids, Lincoln was super-rich dumbasses, Washington was hot rich guys, and Kennedy was rich jocks. How this even got decided was beyond Race, but it was true.

David rapped on Jack and Crutchies door, it opened immediately. A bright, bubbly, and probably buzzed Jack was standing at in the doorway.

“My boys! Come on in! We have introductions and beer!” Jack put one arm around each boy and lead them inside. The small dorm was already pretty crowded, Crutchie, Albert, and Finch had taken up one bed, Romeo, Specs and a kid Race didn't know were sitting on the floor, two other kids from Kennedy were sitting on the other bed, one short and stocky the other lean and tall.

“Alright, on the floor here we got Elmer, and on my bed is Spot and Mush. Boys, this is Race and David. Beer’s in the mini fridge, chips on top.” Jack finished the introductions and took a seat at the end of Crutchies bed, working on getting the movie started. Race checked his phone one last time and took a seat between the Kennedy boys. They may be douchebags but damn if they weren’t fit.

“So what’re we watching, Spottie?” Race asked, turning on his signature charms. The short boy stared straight ahead and took a swig of beer.

“Whatever we’re watching. And the names ‘Spot’.” Race smiled, this kid had just unknowingly issued a challenge. Race was determined to get his attention by the end of the night.

“Tell me, Mush, was it? Where you from and how on earth did you get that name?” Race flirted, grabbing the attention of the other boy. Mush smirked, clearly down to play ball.

“Manhattan, like most kids here. The name is dumb but it stuck, when I was a kid I couldn't pronounce “Michael” so Mush it was. What about you, Race? How’d you get stuck with a name like that.”

“That’s an even dumber story. When I was a kid I loved horses. So my parents, wanting their son to be happy, took me horseback riding. I was so excited that upon getting on the actual horse, I yelled “giddyup” and the horse bolted right from underneath me. I fell right into the mud, since then I get my horse fix from the racetracks, hence “Racetrack” and hence “Race”. A lot smaller chance of getting faceful of dirt at the tracks, though it still happens once in a while.” There had been many variations of that story, that one was probably his favourite, it made people laugh. Mush was giggling, even Spot let out a chuckle. Jack shushed them, as the previews finally ended. It was Jack’s week to pick, meaning it was another cheesy rom-com that Race couldn’t watch for more than 5 minutes without losing focus. This particular movie seemed to feature another architect and journalist unlikely pair, with a jealous girl trying to keep the couple apart. Meryl Streep was there, Race wasn't sure who she was supposed to be, but she was there.

Race kept checking his phone, knowing full well it was attracting the attention of the two boys beside him. No messages from his guard of course, but one text from “work” that nearly scared the shit out of him.

“Damn, Racer, is your girl ignoring you or something?” Mush joked, looking over at the lit screen, Race quickly turned his phone off. Mush leaned over to whisper in Race’s ear.

“I saw that. Didn’t know I had competition.” Mush gave Race a wink and took a sip from the cup in his hand. Race laughed.

“You’re not competition, you’re distribution.” Race replied casually. Mush choked. This private exchange was causing curious and possibly jealous looks from Spot.

“How’s your boy Blink doing, Mush?” Spot asked in a low voice. Race could infer from Mush’s reaction that him and this kid Blink had a situation similar to Jack and Crutchie. Race smiled, so Spot _was_ jealous. Perfect.

“Who’s Blink?” Race casually put his hand on Spots arm and leaned towards him. Race’s key to flirting, especially at World, was being casual.

“Mush’s roommate. He’s ‘sick’, magically, the day we all go to his ex-roommates, but luckily his current roommate is perfectly fine.” Spot explained skeptically. Race, in fact knew who Blink was, the text had been from Blink asking for another kilo of weed, but Race was not the kind of idiot who put people's real names into his phone. He was also not the kind of idiot who told his dealers who they were actually buying from. Life was a lot easier when you were not clearly connected to organized crime. At World, Race was not Antonio Bellaccio, he was Anthony Higgins, for the very obvious safety and social reasons. Some people would think it’s a bad idea for a mafia leader’s son to be running a drug ring in his boarding school, but the name wasn’t attached, and his father thought it was valuable business experience. Besides, someone had to sell these rich kids drugs, the Bellaccio family might as well profit. Not that the low-level dealers at World knew that they were dealing so directly with New York’s biggest crime family, but that’s why World’s drug scene was so well organized. Every drug used at the boarding school had passed through Race’s hands. He supplied the dealers for each dorm, who in turn supplied the customers, and took any obvious guilt off of Race. His own roommate did not know what he was doing, sure, Race had random friends from each dorm that he would go see at weird times, or come to see him in the middle of the night, but David just thought that Race was popular, after all, he was a very friendly and outgoing person.

Race pushed his work out of his mind and focused on the business at hand. Seducing the buff, possibly straight, jock sitting beside him.

“So Spot, where’s your roommate?” Race asked, earning himself a shush from Jack, who was still very invested in the rom-com.

“Don’t got one, I lucked out with a single room.” Spot surveyed the room, most people were watching the movie, except crutchie, who had fallen asleep cuddling with Jack and David. “Wanna get outta here so we can talk without disturbing the other boys?”

“Sure” Race shrugged, it was so far so good, but not so promising as for him to sound excited. They snuck out as quietly as possible, Race gave a peace sign to Jack as they walked out.

“So where are we going, Spottie?” Race put his hands in his pockets and bumped shoulders with the shorter boy, well, his arm bumped Spot’s shoulder, there was a decent height difference.

“I dunno, we could go back to Kennedy or to the Pond?”

“Or by the looks of it I won’t have a roommate tonight either.”

“Guess I’m your roommate for the night” Spot smiled. Race had never seen him smile before, and he liked it a lot. That was also confirmation Spot was interested in him. Race slung an arm around Spot and leaned in.

“Let’s go to the Pond. Should I grab my bag?” The Pond was actually a decent sized lake behind Washington, notorious for interesting things happening at night. Spot looked up at Race and grinned.

“Grab your bag, but don't bother with a swimsuit”

 

10 minutes later, Race and Spot were stripped to their boxers down by the Pond, clothes and bag tucked under a rock to prevent any pranksters from stealing their stuff. Spot’s ridiculous physique made Race feel a bit self-conscious, he was toned muscles from head to toe. Not that Race wasn’t in good shape, he was just 50% less muscle. A slap on his arm brought him back to reality.

“Ready?” Spot asked, as he started walking into the water. Race took a moment more to appreciate the view before running in after Spot and pushing him into the water, a move that Spot wouldn’t forgive. Soon the boys were wrestling in the Pond, trying to dunk and climb each other. Race had a strategy, he slowly started moving them into deeper and deeper water, knowing that soon Spot would not be able to stand easily and call his defeat.

“Fucking shit, can we go back closer to shore? It’s too deep here.” Spot was bouncing on his tiptoes to keep his head above water. Race smirked.

“Only if you admit defeat.”

Spot lunged at Race, pulling him into a bearhug that served to push them both under and towards the shore.

“Alright,” Spot said when they came up ”you done now?” He gave Race a small push on the shoulder. Race put both his hands on Spots hips.

“Well that depends.”

“Depends on what?” Spot inched closer to Race

“Do you give up?” Race dropped his voice to a near whisper

“Never”

Race threw Spot back into the Pond. He cursed as he came back up. Spot swam back over to Race, who opened his mouth to make another remark, only to get shut up by Spot’s mouth on his. Race immediately reciprocated, pulling Spot flush against him. Spot wrapped his arms around the taller boys neck, bringing him down to where Spot could stand flat-footed. They stayed this way for a while, standing there, making out like the horny teenagers they were. Race’s hands started to find their way down to Spot’s ass, giving his cheeks a good squeeze. Spot immediately pushed an already off-balance Race into the water, somehow managing to keep himself above the surface.

“Surrender, so that we can go back to my place.” Spot demanded once the other boy resurfaced. Race weighed his choices, keep his pride or get some.

“Fine, you win,” _This better be some damn good dick._ Race thought to himself.

Spoiler alert: it was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack throws a fuckin' rager, and Race has a few problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? writing smut for the first time ever? yeah, shocker. (dont do drugs, use protection, drink responsibly, yadda yadda)

 

On the way back from Spot’s room, Race knocked on door 314. A weary Blink opened it. Race wordlessly slipped his backpack off of his shoulders and unzipped the front pocket. 

Blink grabbed a brown wrapped package out of the bag and replaced it with a wad of cash. 

The boys nodded at each other and the door was shut. 

Just then, Race heard the tapping cane of Kennedy’s notoriously strict dorm master, Snyder, coming around the corner. The corner that led to Race’s escape plan.  _Fuck._  Race bolted the opposite direction, towards the room he had just come from, and pounded on the door. Spot opened it, dressed for bed in nothing but flannel pants, surprised to see Race back. 

“Here for round 2 already?” Spot smirked, and Race couldn’t help his eyes wandering down Spot’s bare torso. 

“As appealing as that is, Snyder’s coming this way and I could use a place to hide.” Race begged. Spot let him immediately, locking the door behind him. Race scooched his way under the bed, and felt the mattress above him sag as Spot snatched a book off of the floor and presumably pretended to read (not that anyone would believe that). 

The knock on the door, though expected, made Race jump. Spot got up and answered it. 

“Ah, Scott, just doing occupancy checks. Makin’ sure nobody’s gettin’ into trouble.” 

“Of course, sir. I’m alone here, just doing some studying. Exams are fast approaching.” 

“Right. Well, good night, Scott.” 

“Good night, sir.” With that the door shut and the tap of Snyder’s cane faded. Race rolled out from under the bed. 

“ _Scott_?” Race grinned. Spot looked down at him. 

“Shaddup.” Spot looked almost angry until he caught Race’s eye again, and a smile blossomed on his face. Race jumped up and gave Spot a long kiss. 

“Thanks for hiding me.” 

“You know, Snyder is probably going to be patrolling all night, you might as well stay here and sneak out with the crowd in the morning.” Spot suggested, a sly grin on his face. Race looked over the shirtless boy, and grabbed his waist. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

 

Race met up with David at the dining hall, a bit scruffy and a bit sore, but beaming. 

David stared at him suspiciously. 

“Why are you in such a good mood?” David took a bite of his eggs. 

“What’re you talking about? Aren’t I this way every morning?” Race smiled at him. 

“Not before coffee, no. You must’ve loved having the room to yourself.” David said casually. Race nearly choked. 

“Your slept over at Jack’s?” Race asked. David blushed. 

“I figured you’d guess that when I didn’t come ho… oh my god you slept at Spot’s, didn’t you?” David dropped his fork and stared at his roommate. Race just smirked. 

“So you, Jack, and Crutchie, huh?” 

“No. No. No. No. No. You are not redirecting this conversation. You slept with Spot Conlon. You slept with the captain of the freaking football team. You! You! Scrawny boy, slept with Spot Conlon, like,” David flexed his non-existent biceps, “ Spot Conlon.”

“I’m not scrawny!” Race objected. David waved his hand in front of Race. 

“That’s not the point.” David sighed. He was about to continue but David was interrupted by a pat on the shoulder. Jack slid into the seat next to him. 

“How’s it going, gents?” Jack grinned, digging into his bowl of lucky charms. David frowned 

“How can you eat that stuff? It’s pure sugar.” 

“Ah, but it’s sweet, and I like sweet things, didn’t you know?” Jack winked at David between spoonfuls of cereal. David turned into a tomato yet again. 

“Please excuse me while I go vomit.” Race complained. Jack cleared his throat. 

“Right so, as you know, long weekend. Am I taking you guys back to the city? A bunch of us are going to my place on Thursday night.” Jack was one of their few friends who could drive and had their car at The World, this put him in the unenviable role of chauffeur anytime they were given a long weekend.  

“If you’ll take us. I have a family thing on Saturday so if you can’t I'm sure I’d be able to find a way.” Race explained. Jack looked down into his cereal. 

“Or you could ask Spot Conlon for a drive.” Jack suggested, trying to hold back laughter. 

“You are in no place to judge me, rumour has it you were his roommate last year”  Jack shrugged. 

“Yeah I really can’t. Besides,” Jack gave Race a sly smile. 

“Good dick.” they said in unison, before bursting into laughter. 

 

Jack did end up driving them, piling David, Race, and Albert in the backseat, while Crutchie got shotgun. The entire drive to the city, Albert insisted on playing the alphabet game. After half an hour of Albert winning (it shouldn’t be possible to be good at that game), Race grew bored. He turned on his phone, checked that he had no messages, and turned on his music. The sounds of piano and violins filled his ears, drowning out Jack and David’s bickering as well as Crutchie and Albert’s erratic shouting of letters. The music gave him time to reflect. His friends looked so happy, so carefree, it made Race feel so guilty, putting them in danger just by association. He would never be able to live with himself if something bad happened to any of them. And then there was Spot. Race could feel himself falling for the boy, and he was pretty sure Spot felt the same. But they would never work. Even if their relationship lasted until they were graduated, they would never have a happy ending. They wouldn’t be allowed to have a happy ending. For one, Race did not want to drag Spot into the mob lifestyle,  he couldn’t. Secondly, the family would never allow it, being devout Catholics who frown even upon kissing before marriage. Race was also supposed to be married for political purposes, technically speaking he was engaged to Emma Colton, the Irish daughter of an important senator. Her family was fairly involved with the Irish mob, a group Race’s family also controlled, due to the inheritance of the organization to Race’s mother. His parents marriage had been the beginning of their merger, and Race’s would just cement the bond. Which is why Race could never end up with Spot, he needed to be a good heterosexual… something he exceeding failed at.

Jack pulled up to his apartment building and hopped out. He threw his keys at a doorman and motioned for everyone to follow him into the building and then elevator. Upon reaching the top floor Jack swung his arm around David.

“Welcome to my penthouse. Drink in the view.” With the last word he gestured to himself.

“Wow, Jack, how many people have you used that line on?” Albert quipped. Crutchie laughed.

“He says that to me every time I come over.” Crutchie walked out of the elevator first, letting the rest of the group follow him.

“Are your parents going to be home for the night?” Albert asked.

“They won’t be home for another month, they’re doing exhibits out West” Jack dropped his bag on the couch “Let me show you to your rooms.”

Jack’s apartment was huge, having a total of 5 bedroom, 6 bathrooms, and 2 kitchens. Jack, Crutchie, and David were sharing the master bedroom, and Race claimed what he thought to be the second biggest room. They were shown a fully stocked liquor cabinet and beer fridge, and assured that any other vices they could possibly want would be present at the party. Race smiled and checked his phone, sure enough there were multiple texts asking to be restocked. He quickly shot back texts directing his dealers to local suppliers, as Race didn’t bring his stashes with him to parties, out of fear of some junkie finding a kilo of coke and just having at it. Race scrolled through his messages, checking for any alerts. Nothing. Being back in the city made Race more anxious than ever, this is where Pulitzer would be looking for him.

 _Speaking of vices._ Race thought, digging through his bag for a small cardboard box. His room had a very convenient balcony, which he walked out on, lighting up a cigarette. He took a seat on the concrete and opened Instagram. A quick search led him to Spot Conlon’s account, and pretty soon Race was looking through all the shirtless pics and team photos his account had to offer. Race took another drag, catching loud voices inside. He kept scrolling finding pictures of Spot with a pretty girl, the caption reading “My other half!”.  _Fuck._  Race put his phone down and leaned against the railing. This discovery did not surprise him, a lot of guys who messed around at The World had girlfriends back home, Hell, Race was engaged to be married to a female, but he didn’t post pictures of them with coupley captions online. Race cursed himself again, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Spot having a girlfriend seemed to be yet another sign from the universe that they could never be together. Of course Spot had a girlfriend, he was gorgeous, he must have girls falling over themselves to be with him.  _And boys._  Race chided himself. He knew he was falling for Spot, and he needed to put an end to it. Tonight.

“I didn’t know you were a smoker.” A low voice came from Race’s room.  _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_. Race looked over at Spot, who dropped his duffel bag at the base of the bed. Spot walked over to join him on the balcony, pulling out a cigarette and lighter of his own.

“Whatcha doing in my room?” Race asked, flicking some ashes into a flower bed.

“I was told we’re roommates tonight.” Spot inhaled from his cigarette “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t, just asking.” An uncomfortable moment of silence passed between them “Who else is here?”

“Finch, Blink, Mush, a few other kids from Roosevelt. Jack’s already half-gone, Im sure he’ll be out by 10.”

Race looked at his watch: 6:03.

“Wanna bet on it?” Race smirked, catching Spot’s eyes.

“What’s at stake here?” Spot looked intrigued but definitely cautious, he had heard of Race’s reputation for betting. Race shrugged.

“I don’t know, you seem like a pretty private guy, how about if I win, you tell me your middle name?” Spot considered the offer.

“Alright, and if I win, you shut up for an hour.” Spot smiled. Race pretended to be offended from the jab at his talkative nature, but dropped it quickly and offered out his hand.

“It’s a deal.” They shook hands and extinguished their cigarettes to go watch the progression of their bet.

Spot was right. Jack was already hammered, with an eager Romeo trying to catch up. Most people had already started drinking, and Mush had been shooed onto the patio where he was smoking weed with Finch, Roosevelt’s resident dealer. Race recalled where the liquor cabinet was and poured himself a rum and coke, emphasis on the rum. He looked around the room for Spot, recalculated, and looked for David, who he found trying to give water to Jack. He approached the situation, and grabbed the cup from David, who was having no luck hydrating Jack.

“Jack, just drink this, please?” David begged. Jack turned to him.

“What is it?” His words ran together as examined the cup.

“Vodka sprite, it’s really good. Tastes like water, because the vodka and sprite cancel out.” Race interrupted. Jack wasn’t likely to fall for it, he was smarter tha- and he drank it. Jack shrugged and gave the cup back to David.

“Thanks, Davey” he said, wrapping an arm around David’s waist and giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek. David’s face went red, obviously unused to public displays of affection. Race felt a pang of jealousy- no, not jealousy, desire was a better word. He looked around the room once again, and found Spot walking towards him. Race felt warmth in his chest replace the pang felt only moments ago. Spot grabbed Race’s shoulder and steered him away from David and Jack.

“Ok, we need to establish rules for this bet. What did you just give Jack?” Spot asked. 

“Water,” Race suddenly understood “Ah, I see. Neither of us can give Jack anything to drink for the bet to be fair. Don’t worry, the water was David’s idea. I won’t help anymore.”

Spot smirked.

“Man, you know everything I’m going to say before I say it, don’t you?” Spot eyes lit up as he ran his hand down Race’s shoulder to his chest before he realised what he was doing and revoked his hand.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t- I wasn’t-“ He stammered. Race grabbed his hand without thought.

“it’s fine.” Race replied, running his thumb over Spots hand. Spot jerked his hand away.

“I’m an idiot.” Spot walked away, heading into one of the kitchens.  _Well, maybe, but what does that have to do with anything?_

Race didn’t see Spot again until quarter to ten, when they ended up running into each other on a smoke break. The patio was a relatively quiet oasis, with only an occasional giggle coming from the stoners gathered in the corner. Inside was chaos, Race doubted that there was one sober person there. A bunch more teenagers had arrived, from The World and some other schools Race had never heard of. It was the paradigm of rich teenage boys gone wild. Even David was pretty drunk, and last Race had seen him he was heavily making out with Crutchie, whom someone had convinced to try coke. Race hoped Crutchie didn’t like it too too much, it was an expensive addiction and a tough one to break. This mess and more besides had been more than enough to warrant a smoke break, despite Race being a social person, seeing his angel of a friend doing a line was a bit too much for him.

“We meet again.” Spot said as he walked out to join Race on the patio. Race watched him. Definitely didn’t check him out, no siree.

“You’re like a puppy, you keep following me. Good boy Spot, here Spot.” Race teased. Spot frowned and lit his cigarette, promptly blowing smoke in Race’s face.

“Rude. Bad Spot, bad boy.” Race scolded. Spot shoved Race lightly.

“Have you seen Jack?” Spot asked, feeling a desperate need to change the subject.

"Yeah, he passed out about 10 minutes ago, I guess you won." Race took a long drag from the cigarette in his hand "So what have you been up to?"

"Drinkin' and tryin' to avoid some kids we beat up pretty bad at our last football tournament. You?" If Spot had been drinking, Race couldn't hear it in his voice through his thick Brooklyn accent.

"Same, without the rival part. Watched Crutchie do a line, that was pretty horrible to see. Him an' Dave are gettin' pretty heavy now, another thing I didn't need to see." Race smirked, only to catch Spot's eye. Upon recalling their own encounter, the boys paused. Race was the first to break eye contact, turning away to look over the balcony into the expanse of New York City. He was way too far gone for Spot, he knew he needed to pull back now, but yet he couldn't.

"Ain't it beautiful? I mean it's no Brooklyn, but this ain't too bad." Spot leaned against the railing beside Race. He was right, the city lights looked like stars beneath a sky that held none. The view was breathtaking, so long as you didn't consider everything that was down there. Between the star-like lights were dark alleyways where all sorts of danger lurked, danger Race knew first-hand. He looked over at Spot, who seemed completely enraptured by the city. Race wanted him. Race desperately wanted him.  _Oh, fuck "being straight"._ Race extinguished his cigarette.

"I have another bet." Race thought for a moment, his mind running a bit too slowly under the influence of alcohol. "I bet you that Crutchie is still a virgin."

"What's at stake?" Spot took a swig of a beer Race didn't even notice was in his hand.

"If I win," Race leaned in close to Spot. "I get to top tonight."

Spot choked, leaning over to wipe his mouth and process what Race had just said.

"Oh my God, okay, and if I win?"

"Your call."

"If I win, you buy me breakfast in the morning. Deal?" Spot extended his hand once again.

"Deal." Race shook, their hands lingered for a moment.

"Hey, Crutchie!" Race knew that he was going to lose, and Spot soon realised that as well, once they reached the spot where David and Crutchie had previously been making out only to find it empty. They approached the boys' room and put an ear to the door. Sure enough, the sounds coming from the room were more than enough to confirm Spot's win. Spot slung an arm around Race.

"Great, free breakfast!" He exclaimed, Race wanted to tell him that Jack was already providing breakfast, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood.

"Great, I'm bottoming!" Race countered. Spot shot him a sideways glance.

"And here I was beginning to think you didn't like me anymore."  _Oh no, he's on to me._

"Far from it, Spottie-boy."

"Hey, I'm letting 'Spottie' slid, 'Spottie-boy' is pushin' 'er." Spot warned.

"Oh, sorry,  _Scott._ " Race grinned, earning himself a headlock and a noogie from the stronger boy. As soon as he was released, Race ran his fingers through his hair to try and fix the damage done. Spot caught his hands.

"I's fine, Racer. Your hair looks... cute... all messed up like that." The word "cute" seemed odd coming from Spot's mouth, and Race couldn't help but feel like it was a substitute for something else. Spot still hadn't let go of Race's hands.

"Cute? You don't seem the type to be callin' things 'cute', Spot."

"I don't seem the type to be flirtin' with boys either, but here we are." Spot shrugged.

"Does your girlfriend know that you's that type?" Race asked, immediately regretting the words as they came out of his mouth. Spot looked taken off guard, and Race just stared at him expectantly.

"What are you talking about?" Spot asked. Race let go of Spot's hand and reached into his pocket for his phone. The picture of Spot with the mystery girl was still up.

"I saw your Instagram, Spot." Race showed Spot his phone. "Don't pretend you don’t know what I am talking about."

Spot burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching his gut. Race was very confused.

"That’s-" Spot gasped for breath "That's my sister, Race." Spot laughed again "If you'd kept reading, it's tagged 'best sister ever'."

Race looked at the caption again. Spot was right, and left Race feeling like an idiot.

"Were you jealous?" Spot asked. Race looked away, embarrassed. Spot put a hand on Race's waist, they were standing closer now, only a few inches apart. Their proximity was killing Race, Spot was too unnecessarily hot. Race looked back to Spot, drinking in his dark eyes and crooked smile. Spot opened his mouth to tease Race further but was interrupted by a firm kiss. Time stopped, Race placed his hand on Spot's jaw as the shorter boy's hands wrapped around Race, pulling them closer together. Spot's hands wandered lower, squeezing Race's ass and caressing his thigh. Race took this ass an invitation to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth and letting tongues slide into opposite mouths. Race ran his fingers through Spot's short hair, as Spot left the kiss to slowly work his way down Race's neck. The sensation went straight to his crotch but common sense made Race push Spot away, just a bit.

"No marks, I have to see my family tomorrow." Spot nodded and went back to kissing Race directly on the mouth. Race leaned into the kiss. It felt so natural, their bodies fit so perfectly together. Spot bit Race's lip, eliciting a moan from the taller boy. Race rocked his hips against Spot's desperate for friction. He was excited to find Spot had a similar need, based on the hardness in his pants and his return of the grinding.

"Maybe we should go back to our room?" Race suggested between kisses. Spot murmured in agreement, he pulled away from Race and dragged him down the hallway. Upon closing their door, Spot got a mischievous look in his eye.

"Hey, Racer, I know how to make this even more fun." Spot said in a low gravelly voice. Race hummed and pulled his shirt off, reaching for Spot's hem to do the same.

"I'm redeeming that hour of silence you bet."

"Now there's an idea." Race said, stripping off Spot's top and running his hands down Spot's bare chest. "Sounds like a challenge. I'm down."

"Of course, you can tell me if you want to stop at any time, but..." Race had begun kissing and sucking his way down Spot's torso. When he reached the top of Spot's jeans, Race looked up, giving Spot a thumbs-up. Spot wasn't sure if Race was asking permission or agreeing with his statement.

"Great..." Spot undid the button on his jeans and Race gave him a smile, finishing the job by pulling Spot's jeans and boxers down in one go, freeing his erection. Race grabbed the base and took the tip of Spot's cock in his mouth. Race bobbed his head, his lips reaching his hand. As he came back up, Race's hand followed, acting as an extension of his mouth. He continued stroking Spot in that way, getting a rhythm going. Race's tongue explored Spot's dick, moving across the slit, around the head, down the shaft. He brought his tongue to the roof of his mouth and bobbed his head so Spot's cock hit the underside of his tongue. Race was no good at deepthroating, but he knew from experience that that move felt similar. Spot moaned and grabbed Race's head, running his fingers through Race's hair.

"Oh God, that feels so good" Spot said breathlessly. Spot's hand guided Race's head into a rhythm, not jerking him around, like some guys did, but working together. This gave Race a chance to relieve some pressure of his own, using his free hand to rub himself over his jeans. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. Race could hear Spot's breath quickening and his grip on Race's hair tightening. A salty taste formed in Race's mouth, as pre-cum leaked from Spot. Surprisingly, Spot pulled Race off of his cock. Race gasped and looked at Spot questioningly. Spot's face was rosy, he had clearly been close.

"I was hoping to do other stuff besides... and you need some release too." Spot explained, pulling Race to a standing position. He nodded in agreement and started taking off his own pants.

"Get on the bed, I have some lube in my bag." Race obeyed and watched as Spot finished taking off his jeans and started rooting around his bag, until he pulled out a bottle and a condom. Spot tossed the bottle of lube to a naked Race and rolled on the condom onto himself. Race opened his legs and poured some lube onto his fingers. He pushed one into his asshole, wincing at the cold sensation. He worked one finger, loosening the muscles, and then pushing in a second. Spot watched from the edge of the bed, lazily stroking himself. Race added a third finger, pumping all three in and out, completely lost in the movements until he caught Spot's eye. Race smiled and beckoned for Spot to come closer.

"Are you ready? Roll over." Race nodded and got onto his hands and knees. Spot admired the view for a second before grabbing Race's hips and leaning over him.

"Who's the doggy now?" Spot whispered. Race was about to reply before remembering his vow of silence.  _Dammit._  Spot lined the tip of his cock up with Race's hole, slowly but steadily pushing himself in. Race moaned, enjoying the pain and fullness Spot provided.

"Hey, hey, hey, no noise, remember?" Spot pulled out a little bit, before thrusting himself all the way into Race. It was hard, both the silence and their cocks. Race buried his face in a pillow to stop himself from crying out. Spot's next thrust hit Race's prostate dead-on, and Race's body jumped from the sensation, his dick twitching. Race reached back and guided one of Spot's hands from his hips to his cock, sitting up slightly as he did so. Spot wrapped his other arm around Race's waist to keep them steady, as he thrust deep into Race. He stroked Race in time with the buck of his hips. The feeling of finally getting proper friction against his erection was almost enough for Race to come then and there, but he held on. Spot thrust hard again, hitting Race's prostate. He gasped and gripped Spot's arm hard. Spot grunted in recognition.

"Good?" Spot asked, his voice was shaky. Race nodded eagerly, wishing there were a way for him to say  _Too good._ Spot kept going, moving in and out of Race, his hand working in tandem. Race could feel warmth pooling in his stomach, he was getting close, and judging by Spot's breathing and more desperate movements, so was he. Race bit his lip, it was getting harder and harder to remain silent. Another direct hit to the prostate was all it took for Race to tip over the edge and he came, spilling over Spot’s hand. Race’s orgasm caused him to tighten, and the added pressure quickly pushed Spot over the edge as well. Spot came with a grunt that got caught in his throat. They stayed motionless for a moment, panting and returning to reality. Spot slid out of Race, and walked into an ensuite Race hadn’t noticed until now. He collapsed on the bed, feeling empty without Spot inside of him. The bed sagged as Spot returned, laying down beside Race and slinging his arm across the other boy’s back. Race thought he had died and gone to heaven.

“Mm, by the way, my middle name is Michael.” Race smiled and drifted off to sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race meets his fiancee, at a very interesting family dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: homophobic language, rape mention, minor (and i mean MINOR) character death

It was still dark when Race woke up. He was cold, Spot had rolled to the other side of the bed and stolen most of the blankets. Race reached for his phone on the nightstand, only to find it missing. A wave of panic passed through his chest, as he swept his hand over and around his side of the bed.  He cursed himself, and reached towards the ground to find his jeans.  _ Where did I put them? _ he asked himself. His fingers found the edge of his pants, just a bit out of reach. Race leaned further off the bed to try and snag them, instead he fell off completely with a thud. The jeans he had found did not contain his phone, but he did find a box of cigarettes.  _ Spot’s. _ He placed one in his mouth and went back to searching for his phone. In the dim room Race spotted his jeans on the floor where he had thrown them earlier. No phone, but Race pulled them on for a layer of warmth against the cool room. He eventually found it on the dresser across the room, unsure of how it got there. There was a lighter next to it, Race grabbed it and opened the balcony doors. It wasn’t cold outside, at least no colder than the room had been. He checked his phone as he smoked. No texts, but a snap from Crutchie of Jack sleeping on the toilet. Race smirked at his drunk friend. A yawn from the bed pulled his eyes away from his phone and towards his roommate. Spot looked at Race sleepily from the bed.

“Hey.” Race said. Spot responded by stretching his hand towards Race. He walked over to the bed and Spot took the cigarette from Race’s hand and motioned for him to get back into bed. Race happily climbed over the other boy, spooning him over top of the covers. He wordlessly kissed Spot’s shoulder and grabbed the cigarette back to take another drag. He returned it and buried his face in Spot’s warm back. It was heavenly. Race almost fell back asleep in that position, but just before drifting off, Spot moved.

“Racer, come see this.” His voice was still gravely with sleep. Race opened his eyes as Spot got out of bed. He watched as the naked figure snatched a pair of briefs off of the floor and walked out to the balcony. Race slowly followed, following his source of warmth. Spot was bathed in golden light, bringing his tan complexion more to the status of bronzed god. Race wrapped his arms around Spot’s waist and looked over his shoulder towards the rising sun. Light streamed through morning fog and between buildings, illuminating the city orange.

“Gorgeous.” Race whispered.

“Truly.”

“I wasn’t talking about the sunrise.” Race murmured into Spot’s neck, nipping gently at his skin.

“Shaddup.” 

 

Jack did not appear at breakfast, but his roommates assured everyone that he was fine and sleeping in. A whole host of cleaning staff were tidying up last night's festivities, the dream of any teenager who just destroyed their parent’s apartment. Where the staff had been hiding all night, Race had no idea, but they were clearly full time staff judging by the way Crutchie knew all of their names. Race was certainly thankful for them, as a cook produced a hearty meal for 10 hungry teenagers. Breakfast was quiet, save for Crutchie who was his usual bubbly, chatty self, entertaining Davey with stories of things he’d seen Jack do while drunk over the last 4 years. David seemed a tad overwhelmed for so much Crutchie so early in the morning, but was enjoying the boy’s ramblings nonetheless. Spot was silent throughout the meal, Race wouldn’t have felt ignored if there wasn’t a hand holding his own on his lap. 

Soon after the plates were cleared away, Jack emerged from his room, looking tired and confused but in one piece. David tossed Jack a muffin and began informing him of all the stupid things he did while intoxicated, as well as other events of the evening. The host looked mortified.

“Well shit, sorry you guys had to put up with that.”

“Don’t be, I won a bet because of how fucked you got.” Spot explained with a grin, Jack raised his muffin to him, as if to say “cheers”. David was in the middle of making a snarky comment when Race checked his phone, finding a message from his family’s driver.  _ Shit.  _ He cleared his throat

“Well gents, this has been a blast, but I unfortunately have to be on my way. The car is coming, there’s some stupid family dinner tonight. I’ll see y’all on monday.” Race excused himself to his room to pack his things, grabbing articles of clothing from the floor and yanking a charger out of the yall. Just as he was heading out of the room, he ran into Spot, blocking his escape. Now that Race was sober, he could appreciate just how fucked he was for this boy. 

“So you’re outta here? Do I at least get your phone number?” Spot leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. Race wished he didn’t have to leave, he could have spent all day staring at the guy standing in front of him.

“Duty calls, unfortunately.” Race smiled and approached the shorter boy, surprising him by wrapping his arms around his waist. “And as for the phone number...” Race trailed off as Spot relaxed into the embrace, placing his own hands on Race’s forearms, appearing to be going in for a kiss. Race suddenly withdrew his hands, having taken Spot’s phone from his back pocket. He quickly opened it and entered his contact info. 

“I also put my snapchat on there, it’s probably the best way to get in touch. Please do.” Race handed the phone back to Spot, who seemed amused. He moved to go around Spot, only to be stopped by a muscular arm.

“Wait,” Spot pulled Race down and into a brief kiss. “See ya, Racer”

They smiled at each other. Race didn’t want to leave, he could have spent all morning kissing that boy, but a blip from his phone alerted him to the driver arriving at Jack’s place. 

“Later, Spottie-boy.” Race fled the scene before Spot could object to the nickname.

The ride home was uneventful, Race checked to make sure no marks were visible on his neck, and kept quiet in the backseat of their family car. It was nearly 40 minutes before they pulled up to the Bellaccio mansion on Manhattan beach. The house was a huge affair, and had been in the family since the Bellaccios moved to America. As the driver pulled the car around back, Race saw a small face beaming and waving from a second story window. He jumped out of the car, and into the house as soon as the vehicle stopped. Footsteps thundered down the main staircase as he entered, and Race was quickly body-slammed by his 10 year old sister.

“Tesoro mio! Careful! Soon you’re going to be too big for this, Elena!” Race laughed, hugging his sister and twirling her around.

“Never Antonio, you’ll just have to get stronger.” She replied. He dropped her on the ground and glared at her. She just laughed.

“How’s school going? Enjoying your classes? Is that roommate of yours causing any more trouble?” He grilled, ruffling her hair playfully. Elena had just started attending the World’s sister school, the Sun.

“Classes are fine, but oh mio Dio, Becky non sta zitto.” Elena complained.

“Elena! Language!” A voice yelled from the other room.

“Sorry, Mama!”

“Antonio, come help in the kitchen. Your sister has homework she’s supposed to be doing.” Elena raced back upstairs, leaving Race to wander into the kitchen, where a whirlwind of food was being prepared single handedly by the family matriarch. Race gave his mother a quick peck on the cheek, in exchange for a direct kiss on the forehead.

“What do you need help with, Mama?” Race looked around, the kitchen may have been a mess, but everything looked relatively under control. Maria Bellaccio looked unbelievably put together for preparing the meal surrounding them.

“If you could start on the amaretti, I still need to put the lasagne in the oven.” Maria looked her son up and down. “It’s good to see you, gigio”

His mother smiled, and Race got to work. He loved cooking alongside his mother, it was one of the few activities they shared. As they cooked they made small talked and gossiped, as per their normal cooking routine.

“So where’s Violetta?”

“At Toms, they’re both coming for dinner tonight.” Violetta was the third and oldest Bellaccio sister.

“Have they set a date for the wedding? They’ve been engaged for nearly 4 months now.”

“Si, it’s some time next September. Don’t forget to separate the eggs, dear.”

“Who all is coming to dinner tonight?”

“Your uncle Matteo and his new wife, cousin Marco and Juliet, and we invited Emma Colton and her parents.” Race paused for a second.

“Emma is coming?”

“That’s what I said, Antonio. You’re almost 18, sarai sposato abbastanza presto.” Maria smiled knowingly. “You’d better teach that girl Italian soon after you’re married. I don’t want my grandchildren growing up only speaking english.”

Race felt like he had been thrust into an alternate universe. Last night, that morning, he had been living his gayest life, now his mother was talking about her prospective grandchildren. His engagement had always been theoretical, he had only met his fiancee once or twice, now it was hitting him in the face. His parents expected him to legitimately marry this girl, within the next year or two, and have children! He was gay! So very gay! Jesus Christ, what was he going to tell Spot? Wait, what was Spot to him? They weren’t exactly dating, but it was definitely more than a one night stand. For now, Race figured he might as well play his part, and figure out Spot later.

“Of course, Mama. So the engagement is official?”

“It will be after the engagement party, you’ll give her a ring, and then we can start making concrete plans.”

“And when is the engagement party?”

“That is something we will be discussing tonight, Antonio.” Race’s father said, having entered the kitchen without either of the noticing. Giovanni Bellaccio was a large man, about 6’2 and built like a tank, the complete opposite of Race, who had inherited his mother’s figure. Maria crossed the kitchen to give her husband a kiss and take his coat from him. After she had left, Giovanni watched intently as his son spooned dough onto cookie sheets.

“All this baking is going to turn you into a faggot,” Race was careful not to make any physical reaction. “You need to get a real hobby, like working on cars. Isn’t that why I bought you that mustang?”

“Yes, and it runs great, so I don’t see any need to work on it. Besides, I’m sure Emma,  _ my fiancée _ , will greatly appreciate that I can cook for myself.” Race explained carefully, suddenly glad he was engaged to a female woman. It was not a good idea to upset a man who could have anyone killed with the snap of his fingers. Thankfully, Race’s mother saved the day, sweeping Giovanni out of the kitchen before any more conversation could take place. Race shoved the amaretti in the oven and set the timer.

“Anything else, Mama?” Race asked. Maria looked around the kitchen.

“I think I’m good, gigio, go play with your sister. I have a sneaking suspicion she hasn’t been doing homework anyhow.”

Guests arrived much sooner than Race expected or wanted, he could have spent the entire evening hanging out with Elena. They were close, despite the 7 year age difference, she was the baby of the family, not even aware of what exactly the family business was. Perhaps Race envied her innocence. Because of the nature of their family matters, Elena was not invited to the table that evening and was taken to dinner and a movie by the nanny, instead, her usual seat to Race’s right was occupied by Emma. She was a pretty enough girl, if Race had been interested in girls, he probably would have loved her, all bright green eyes and freckles.

“So, what school did you say you go to, Antonio?” Emma asked conversationally.

“The World. What about you?”

“My brother goes to the World! I go to the Sun.”

“Small world, my sister Elena just started there, and of course my older sister, Violetta,” Race motioned towards the girl sitting on the other side of him, “just graduated from there last year.”

Violetta turned towards the two at the mention of her name.

“Oh, yes, I think we may have met at some point last year-”

At that point, Race started to tune out all conversation and focus on his meal, not quite in the mood for small talk. His father was watching him carefully from across the table, noting his interactions with Emma and chatting casually with Emma’s father, John Colton. The meal, as always, was unbelievable. Race hadn’t been home in about a month, and he had missed his mother’s cooking more than anything. She wasn’t full italian, but after marrying Giovanni, she quickly grew into the role of a traditional Italian mother. Race took a bite of fluffy bread, chewing mindlessly until he caught the words “engagement”, bringing Race back to the table.

“About 4 months, we’re getting married next fall.” Violette explained, grabbing her fiance's hand. Uncle Matteo had asked her a question about her and Tom.

“Speaking of which, we should talk about the  _ other _ engagement.” John segued. Race caught Emma’s eye nervously, she smiled.

“Of course. We need to decide a date for the engagement party, it is no small matter.” Giovanni said sternly. 

“We could host it at our place, does next weekend work for you?” John suggested casually, Giovanni paused, glancing over at his brother.

“We have no other plans. Yet, there are many things to prepare for-”

“I’m sure your men are talented enough to get everything in order by then, and we will do our part as the hosts.” There was a hidden meaning behind John’s words that Race didn’t quite understand. Watching the men talk was like watching a game of table tennis.

“Of course. Next Saturday it is then.” Giovanni said with finality, he cleared his throat. “Antonio, why don’t you give Emma a tour of the house and garden. We have some other business to discuss.”

Race nodded dutifully and stood up, motioning for Emma to follow him. The tour of the house consisted mostly of stories of stupid things that happened in each room, Emma didn’t seem to particularly care but nodded along dutifully. As they entered the gardens she looped her arm in his, which Race felt was appropriate, considering that they were to be married. it suddenly reminded him that this was his future wife.  _ What the fuck? _

“So, what’s it like being the only son of the Bellaccio’s?” Emma asked, twirling her blonde hair with her free hand. Race could have laughed at her attempts to flirt with him.

“Not that interesting, Violetta is the one who will inherit the business, not me. I mean, I will still be working for the family, but not running the whole show.” Race explained. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Go ahead. You work for them now?” She watched as Race pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

“A bit here and there. What about you? You do anything for your family?” Race spoke through the smoke.

“Not really, nothing beyond the marriage I guess. After that I’m in your hands.” Emma shrugged. Race was appalled by Emma’s mindset, she made it seem like she was property being handed over. In a way, he understood, the arranged marriage made him feel like a pawn, but never had he thought about the actual concept of him.. being in charge of her. It didn’t seem right. He was a bottom for God’s sake!

“There’s something weird about being engaged. I feel like I barely know you.” He explained. Emma smiled, despite being 100% attracted to men, Race liked her smile, he could live with seeing it everyday, it reminded him of someone special.

“Alright, well my middle name is Mary, my favourite colour is purple, my birthday is October 4th, I like sushi, hate knock-offs, and I can’t cook, but I am excellent at languages.” Emma squeezed Race’s arm. “There. Now you know me.”

“I suppose so.” He watched her for a moment, rationalizing that, yeah, he could marry her. She seemed nice enough, and she seemed to like him, maybe it could work. Race realized he would probably have to tell her that he was gay, he didn’t think he could keep that a secret his whole life. Perhaps they could come to an arrangement, where they could both sleep with other people while maintaining a friendship-like marriage. She also seemed to be considering Race, observing his face. Race thought perhaps she had a similar issue, maybe she was also gay, that would be perfect. But then she kissed him. It was soft, sweet, and totally alien. Race had never kissed a girl before, and he was so surprised by the experience that he just froze. Part of him felt like he was cheating on Spot, even though they had never made any formal commitments, and yet he kissed her back, perhaps more out of perceived duty than attraction. They were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a gunshot coming from the house. Emma screamed, and Race instinctively covered her mouth. They stood silent for a few moments while Race checked his phone. No new messages, no obvious danger.

“It was probably nothing, but we should probably go in and see.” Race released Emma from his grasp. She seemed shaken and looked towards him for support, he hesitated for a moment before awkwardly handing her his jacket. On their way towards the house, Race reached underneath an innoccous concrete bench and retrieved a handgun, tucking is into the waistband of his pants.

“Just in case.” He rationalised. He was pretty sure the gunshot was from the “business” his father had mentioned, but with the ongoing threat, one could never be too careful. Plus, Race felt cool carrying a gun.

Entering the house, nothing seemed amiss. Even the parlour, where everyone was gathered seemed normal, save for the absence of cousin Marco. The adults barely acknowledged the kids arrival, and instead were talking rather casually about discipline and consequences. Emma announced their presence with a question.

“What happened to the other gentleman who was here for dinner?” The question was innocent in itself, but Race would never have dared to asked it.

“He got caught breaking one of our Regole di Famiglia, and was… excused.” Giovanni chose the word carefully, keeping the atmosphere civil despite having just admitting to shooting his nephew. The Regole di Famiglia were a very strict set of rules that Race learned at an early age. The consequence for breaking any of them was swift and sure death. Treason, negligence, drugs, rape, adultery (if the person had married into the family), and domestic abuse were all things unforgivable in the Bellaccio family. Not even the head of the family could change the Regole di Famiglia, Race was sure if they had that power “no gay shit” would also be on that list. He wondered which rule Marco had broken.

“What did he do?” Emma clearly hadn't understood the gravity of the situation. Race jumped in to rescue her.

“I can explain lat-”

“No, Antonio, now’s as good a time as ever to learn our rules.” Giovanni interrupted. “They will apply to you too soon enough. Marco was caught in possession of drugs. He does not work with our suppliers or dealers, so it was easy to figure out that they were for his own use. No one in the Bellaccio family can consume recreational drugs, for a great number of reasons. This is the only rule that should ever hopefully apply to you but it may be useful to know them all. We also forbid assault on other family members, and of course, betrayal are all punishable by death.”

Emma was silent, the word laid heavily on the room. After a moment’s pause, her father stood up.

“Perhaps it is time for us to go. I will be in touch soon.” John Colton nodded towards Giovanni and then turned towards Race. “And I will see you next weekend. Good-bye all.”

Everyone departed at once, the movement lightening up the atmosphere. Emma handed back the jacket with a smile and a wink. His uncle’s family was a bit quiet, given the loss of their son, yet uncle Matteo was the same as usual, as if Marco’s death was just a normal event, chalk it up to just another day at the office. Race had no idea what happened to the body, and honestly he didn’t want to know. Sometimes you just had to let family secrets stay secret.

Following the departure of the guests, Giovanni disappeared, and Race finally got a chance to relax at home without family or fiancee hovering over his shoulder. His bedroom had been cleaned since Race had last been home, the only thing out of place were his suitcases, which a maid had emptied for laundry. Race suddenly remembered the gun in his waistband. He pulled it out and examined it, running his fingers over the cool metal.  Race leveled the gun and aimed it towards the mirror, looking down and into the barrel of the gun simultaneously. His finger hovered over the trigger, itching to fire, but that would be a bad idea, so he instead put the gun away. It wasn’t easy to find a spot to put it, Race in the end settled on tucking into a suit jacket pocket. He collapsed on his bed and stared at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes before checking his phone. No new messages, 2 new snaps. He opened the first one. It was Jack’s streaks, him cuddling with his boys, Crutchie resting on his shoulder and David’s head barely visible on Jack’s stomach.  _ Nerds.  _ The second snap was from Spot, Race’s heart skipped a beat. It was a gym selfie, all glistening arms and flexed legs. Race could feel all of his blood rushing to his head. He responded with a selfie he would call casual yet charming. Spot responded almost immediately, he was still at the gym but had lost his shirt, Race almost threw his phone across the room in shock. He took a deep breath and responded with a scathing comment about how Spot was too muscular for his own good. They talked for hours, flirting throughout Spot’s journey from the gym to his home, which seemed just about as opulent as Race’s. Race enjoyed the conversation and seeing Spot’s face, he was absolutely smitten with the muscular boy. They talked all through the night, resulting in both boys falling asleep in church the next morning. Getting in shit with his parents was worth it though, Race had never felt happier, even staring down the face of his engagement. Deep in his mind Race knew that the situation wasn’t going to end well, but every moment he spent talking to Spot was the happiest of Race’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! this chapter was really bad, but things pick up soon i promise!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next week at school. Spot and Race have their first actual date!

Race was actually excited for Monday, to get away from family drama, see his friends, see Spot. At school he could ignore his looming problems, and instead focus on math problems, which were much simpler. School felt unreasonably normal after the weekend he’d had, but it was comforting, running through calculus and probability on muscle memory alone. Race was hoping that he would be put towards something to do with math when he went to officially work for the family, maybe gambling or money laundering, Race could see himself working with that stuff. The drug business was always the same, and Race was starting to get tired of it. The drugs themselves rarely changed, people always wanted the same things and each dorm had its own set. Roosevelt and Kennedy both loved uppers, Washington had its hallucinogens, and Lincoln could always be counted on to buy whatever was the most expensive. He made most of his money off of those idiots, so he didn’t mind that. Waking up at ungodly hours to talk to dealers wasn’t even that bad when he didn’t have a roommate, but he was starting to feel bad once he realised that his business was disturbing David. Most of the time he was asleep when Race got a house call, and the transaction would occur when David was barely conscious. Tuesday night, Race was watching a movie while Dave studied when there was a knock at the door.

“Race… Door…” David reminded absently. Race didn’t hear him through his headphones, resulting in his roommate answering the door himself. David crossing the room was enough to catch Race’s attention and watch Dave freeze upon opening the door. Race took the awkward staring contest in the doorway to be his cue to stop his movie and take care of the situation.

“Oh hey, Snipe! Uh, I got the notes you wanted. One sec.” Race jumped off the bed and grabbed his backpack. Upon hearing the apparent normalcy of the visit David returned to his studies, allowing Race to make a quick and quiet stock up with his Lincoln dealer.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Sniper Madison, or that you had any classes together.” David commented almost immediately after Race closed the door. Sniper wasn’t the type of person either of them ever associated, he wasn’t shy about the business he was in and tended to be on the sleazy side of the spectrum, despite being uber rich.

“Well jeez David, I didn’t know you were an expert on my life.” Race joked. David just scoffed and went back to his work. He quietly returned to his movie, tucking away the cash Sniper had given him and making a note in his journal. A single room was so much more convenient.

 

Thursday, Spot and Race had lunch together. Race figured it was the closest the two were ever going to get to a proper date. The lunch surprised Race, he didn’t expect that kind of thing coming from Spot. When Spot led him to a back staircase in Kennedy, he expected a mid-day booty call not a nice picnic on the roof. It certainly wasn’t anything instagram-worthy, but it was still cute. Spot had brought out a blanket for them to sit on and stolen food from the cafeteria. It was… sweet. Really sweet. The fact that Spot would set all of this up was astounding to Race, he didn’t exactly take Spot to be the romantic kind.

“Are you going soft on me, Conlon?”

Spot looked ready to push Race off of the roof. Instead he grabbed a piece of bread and chucked it at Race’s head, Race barely caught it.

“Eat.” Spot sounded annoyed, but the grin on his face would say otherwise. He took a seat on the blanket set down and took a roll for himself. Race was surprised by the bread, it was soft and warm, close enough to his mother's bread to put a smile on his face.

“Ishogoood” He said through a mouthful of bread. Spot laughed, the sight of which made Race’s heart ache, though that could have been because of the huge clump of bread he just swallowed. He joined Spot on the blanket, the wind was brisk and Race was glad he had a jacket.

“Glad you like it. Breaking into the kitchen was worth it.”

“Where’d you even get this idea? Seems like something Crutchie or Romeo would do.” Race asked as Spot set out the rest of their lunch.

“I don’t need other guys to think up my dates for me.” Spot almost sounded offended.  

“Okay, so this _is_ a date.” Race grinned, making Spot laugh again. _God, I love that sound._ Spot ran his hands through Race’s curly hair and gave him a soft look.

“Yes, this is a date.” He admitted. Race leaned his forehead against Spot’s for a moment.

“Good.” he popped a piece of salami into his mouth. “Is all of this food Italian, Orsetto?”

“Maybe. What does “orsetto” mean exactly?”

“Little bear.” Race smirked. Spot raised his eyebrows

“Are we doing pet names now… princess?” Race smacked Spot’s arm, and got shoved playfully in return.

“I take it back, what did I even do to earn the name “princess”?”

“You’re a pretty boy.” Spot shrugged. Race leaned into him, batting his blue eyes up to Spot.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Spot responded by shoving food into Race’s mouth and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. They sat quietly while Race chewed. The view from the roof was nice, Race wondered how Spot even knew about the place. It overlooked the main quad of The World, boys were running about tossing frisbees and chatting. A gust of wind hit them, and Race could feel Spot shiver.

“Are you cold?” He asked.

“Nah.” Spot denied. Race could see the goosebumps on his arms. _This dumbass rolls his sleeves even in winter, doesn’t he?_ He shuffled so that Spot was sitting between his legs, Race’s arms wrapped around Spot’s, the body contact warming both of them. Despite claiming he was fine, Spot leaned into Race’s chest, allowing Race to rest his chin on the shorter boy.

“Strawberry?” Spot lifted one out of a container and offered it to Race.

“Are you going to feed it to me?” Spot sighed, and raised it to around where Race’s mouth was. He had been entirely joking, eating it was more difficult than Race ever thought it could be, but he managed.

“Heavenly” Race said “Being fed strawberries by the hot boy in my arms. It doesn’t get any better than this. Except if the strawberries were chocolate-covered.”

“Oh, what hardship.” Spot replied blankly. Race squeezed Spot and kissed him on the cheek.

“Shaddup.” Spot laughed.

“I didn’t say anything.” Race murmured into Spot’s ear “You should laugh more, it’s my favourite sound.”

“Then make me laugh.” Spot replied.

“Alright. How do you get two blind guys to stop fighting?” Race paused. “You yell ‘I’m betting on the one with the knife!’”

Spot let out a chuckle, not enough to quite count as a laugh, but close enough to make Race smile. Although, anything Spot did made Race smile.

“Everyone thinks you’re so tough, but look at you: adorable.”

“Better not tell anyone ‘bout that Racer. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.” Spot lifted up his hips and reached into his back pocket. “Dart?”

“Sure.” Race took the offered cigarette and put it in his mouth as Spot lit it. “Should really quit, these things are so bad for you.”

“Who cares? I’m not planning to live much past 30.” Spot tapped ashes off of the end of his cigarette. He would have looked like the classic teenage badass if he wasn’t leaning against a twink; but honestly, doesn’t make it even better?

“Too bad, here I was goin’ for 80, but that wouldn’t be much fun without you.”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say that was proposal.”

“Not a proposal, a suggestion. Life is more fun with you in it.”

Whatever snarky response Spot had on the tip of his tongue froze there. Instead he just turned and looked at Race, a look of… something strewn across his face. Whatever it was, Race was absolutely taken away by him.

“How do you do that?” Spot asked.

“What do you mean?”

“How do you say things like that? How do you look at me like that? As if you actually like me.”

“It’s easy, I like you. A lot. Do you find that hard to believe?”

“I’m not like you, I’m not smart, or funny, and I sure as hell ain’t as pretty as you are. I don’t know how you can like me when I’m-” The word was caught in Spot’s throat. “I’m...”

“You’re what? Gay? Did you honestly think I’m straight? Strike that, did you honestly think I’m interested in girls at all? I know it’s not something discussed at The World, but I’m not going to deny it. Liking guys isn’t something to be ashamed about. I like you because you _are_ smart, you _are_ funny, and you are _so_ pretty. Well, not pretty, but you know, you are extremely attractive. I like you because you are a good person, despite what you may think.”

“I like you, too.” Spot was silent for a moment. “My sister is the only one I’ve ever told that I’m gay. It’s not something that the rest of my family would exactly be okay with.”

“Mine neither. What matters is that you’re okay with it, as long as you’re comfortable with who you are, no one else’s opinion matters. Honestly, I’m not the best person to even comment on this, Lord knows how I tried to push down my feelings for you, but you need to live your best life. Don’t deny who you are, it never goes well.”

“Thank you, Racer. It’s nice talking about this.”

“It’s nice talking to you. You’re a good distraction from all the dumb shit out there.”

“What dumb shit?” Spot looked up at him. All of the mess he left at home rushed back to him. _Holy shit, I’m getting engaged in two days._

“Not important. Distract me.”

“Whatever you say, princess.” Spot kissed him, successfully erasing any thoughts from Race’s head.

 

Race knew something was wrong as he approached his dorm room. He checked his phone. No new messages. Race cautiously opened the door. David was standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed like the disappointed jewish mother he was. Race was running through the list of things he could possibly had done (not having cleaned his half of the room was #1), when he noticed a familiar stack of white bricks sitting on top of a sweater on his bed. _Oh fuck._

“It’s modeling clay, I’ve been secretly learning how to make statues.” he lied flawlessly. By all accounts it was a genius lie, but David was not convinced.

“I’m not an idiot, Race. Why the fuck do you have bricks of cocaine under your bed?” He wasn’t playing around. David was a good kid, there was no way that Race could tell him the truth, that would only end in Race getting kicked out of The World. It was time to play defensive.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Race rushed across the room to re-hide his coke. He wrapped everything in a hoodie and shoved it back under the bed where it had been before David had found it.

“Is this why Sniper was here last night? Is he your dealer?” A bit of concern was seeping into David’s voice. If Dave was going to assume Race was addicted, Race was willing to play the part of the closet druggie.

“I- I’m not talking about this.” He said sheepishly. David placed his hand on Race’s shoulder.

“You have to know this isn’t healthy. We care about you Race, all of us, Jack, Crutchie, Spot.” David turned up the motherly instincts, and Race moved his hand off of his back.

“Don’t touch me. I’m fine.” Race hated being so cold towards David, he liked to consider them friends, but it was the part he was playing. If he was an addict he would never want to talk to David after being confronted like that. David was silent after that. Race waited until David had left him to stand up. Once they were on respective sides of the room, David wouldn't even look at him, but he wasn’t looking at anything else either. He just sat at his desk silently, pretending to study. Race, of course, worried that he had just permanently ruined his friendship with David, but he had never lied to him, David just made his assumptions. Race knew that letting his friends assume he was an addict was better than letting them find out he was on the other side. There were plenty of addicts at The World, Race should know, he caused most of them. Maybe this lie was just too much for David’s pure brain to handle. God, his life was getting complicated.

 

The next day was worse. Worse in that David had stopped ignoring him completely. Race soon realised how easily his outgoing personality and natural energy could be misinterpreted. Everytime he did something funny or spoke up or laughed particularly loud he got a cautious look from David. He felt like he was being judged constantly. Any relief from being watched was suddenly destroyed by the lie. At least David was being quiet about it, and Jack’s presence in first period helped distract him from the possibility of Race being coked up at school. Their second class of the day was chemistry, a class that was typically more subdued and hopefully helped calm the idea. Unfortunately, it was then that Race’s nose decided it was the perfect time to get a nosebleed for the first time in years. As Race fled to deal with it, David followed him out of the room and into the men’s. Race clocked it as the first time he’s actually seen David angry.

“What the hell, Race? At school? What are you thinking?” David growled. Race turned on the tap, hoping the sound of running water would help drown out the conversation to outsiders.

“Bold of you to assume I’m thinking.” Race joked, hoping to lighten the mood. It was by all accounts, the bad choice. He turned to the sink, only to have David pull Race to face him.

“How high _are_ you? Jesus Christ, Race, I can’t believe you! This is- This is unbelievable! Here I was thinking the cocaine was just for those outrageous parties! I was fine not talking about it when it could have just been a- a bad habit, that wasn’t really a problem. But this- this is a problem Race! Now I’m doubting every conversation I’ve had with you! Are you just… High? All the time? Because I don’t know. Does anyone know? Does Spot know?” In the moments pause David took to rub his face in distress another voice spoke up.

“He does now.” Spot was standing in the doorway, disappointment scrawled all of his face. _Shit._

"It's not a big deal-"

"No. It is a big deal and if you think it's not, I'm leaving." Spot left as suddenly as he appeared, slamming the door behind him. Race’s heart flew into his throat. Every cell in his body was screaming for him to follow Spot, but David was not prepared to allow that. He stood in the doorway as soon as Race made a move to leave.

“‘It’s not a big deal’? How stupid are you? This is very clearly a massive deal-”

“You don't think I know that?!” Race yelled, the anger came from nowhere and everywhere. “Spot’s fucking pissed because he thinks I’m a drug addict, this is all your fault.”

“My fault? You are snorting coke at school! I think that makes you a drug addict!” Race wished he could tell David the truth, but he honestly wasn’t even sure that could save him in the current situation. David took a breath, returning to mama bear mode. “This is a problem, Race. I’m concerned, Spot’s clearly concerned, you have people who love you and don’t want you to ruin your life with this stuff. What can I possibly do to help, Race?”

“Nothing, this doesn’t concern you. Now, let me leave.” Race moved towards the door again, only for to Dave to intercept him again.

“It _does_ concern me. You’re my friend, my roommate, and you can live a better life than this. You don’t have to get high at school, or at all. So I can’t let you leave until you promise to get some help. You don’t want to get tangled up in drug dealers and that sort of crowd, you’re going to end up hurt or worse.”

“I’ll be fine.” Race finally just pushed past David, shoving him to the side, not even pausing to see if David was fine. Even if Race wasn’t addicted to coke, that part of his life really did not concern Dave, his business wasn’t dangerous as long as he followed the rules.

Race returned to class, only to grab his stuff and flee to his dorm room. He didn’t want to see David, he hated lying to him. Race could feel their their friendship falling apart, and he knew it was his fault and his insistence on keeping his secret was going to be a problem. And then there was Spot. Race knew in his heart that their relationship wasn’t going to last, he was engaged after all. Even if by some miracle Emma dropped dead in the next 3 days, Race could never tell Spot about the family business, and Race’s family would never allow him to date Spot. It had been nice while it lasted though, Race was going to miss those perfect lips, those sparkling eyes, that ass. Race checked his phone. No new messages, three missed calls from David and 2 from Jack. No word from Spot. This was it, the last straw. _Guess I’m just going to be a mobster from now on._ Any possibility Race felt he had of living a normal life was gone, he might as well lean into the organised crime part of his life. He was good at it, clearly much better than he was at relationships, so why not make some money and make his father proud. Race laughed, as if he could ever make his father proud.

Race’s phone made a pinging noise. The family driver wanted to know when Race would be ready to leave for the city _. _Now._ _ Race replied, and he gathered up his bag to leave, ready to commit for life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big day!

The morning of the engagement party was full of tension, and it wasn’t just Race who felt it. At the breakfast table, Elena accidentally knocked over a glass of orange juice which resulted in a shouting match between Violetta and their father. There was no real substance to the argument, but it was unbelievably serious, and no doubt terrifying to poor Elena who had spilled the offending OJ. Race assumed the subtext of the fight was about Violetta taking over the family business, but even that was just a guess. At any rate, Violetta cleaned up the juice and enlisted Elena to help clear the table. As Race moved to aide his sisters, he was stopped by his father and beckoned into the study.

Race hated that study. No good conversations ever happened in that study. It was a large room, practically empty except for a large oak desk and chair, designed to cut an intimidating figure. Giovanni took his seat and left his son to stand there awkwardly, waiting for Giovanni to make the first move. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small blue box. It was placed centered on the desk, as if it was the key to a nuclear bomb.

“You know what this is?” Giovanni asked. Race nodded, it had to be the engagement ring. “I doubt you know what it represents. This ring represents a merger. This is very important, especially with the Pulitzer situation. We need the distribution and man-power the Irish provide, and your marriage should cement the relationship that your mother and I began. Which means you can’t mess this up. You break her heart and you may take the whole family down. This shouldn’t be hard, and it should prove to me that you aren’t entirely incompetent.”

The message was clear: don’t fuck this up. Race grabbed the box. It was surprisingly light for something carrying the weight of his future.

“Am I to propose to her at any specific time or place?” Race asked, hoping to God it wasn’t going to be a public embarrassment.

“Before the party begins, that ring should be on her finger before 7. It makes no sense to start the party before you two are actually betrothed. Beyond that, it’s your engagement, don’t expect instructions from me on every aspect of your life.”

“Thank you, Father. I won’t fail you.” Race lied. He waited a moment for his dismissal. At the wave of his father’s hand, Race briskly walked back to his room, checking his phone out of habit. No messages, one snap from David, nothing from Spot. Race placed the ring box on his bedside table and stared at it as if it was going to transform into some horrid monster. Out of curiosity he opened it, admiring the gorgeous ring. Race knew next to nothing about diamond rings, but he was sure this one cost a pretty penny. It had three diamonds, a large circular one bordered by two, smaller, triangular stones. Race was sure Emma would love it, if only for the fact that it looked very expensive. He felt a sudden pang of guilt in his chest, who for, Race wasn’t sure. Emma; who was unknowingly marrying a gay man who could never really love her? His family; who was going through all this to get Race engaged, only for him to be in love with a man? Spot; who was being left in the dark and ghosted by his boyfriend?  _ Oh god, Spot. _ Race checked his phone again, knowing full well that Spot would not have sent any new messages in the 15 minutes since Race last looked. Race opened his phone to messenger, scrolling down to Spot’s conversation. He considered sending a text, thumbs hovering cautiously. Spot deserved an explanation, Race decided, but whether Race could do it, tell him the truth, was the real question.

Race Higgins: I’m sorry.

He watched the text silently. Race felt a spark of hope as Spot came online and the status of the text went from delivered to read. It stayed read, no response came. Race switched out of Spot’s messages and into Emma’s. They had barely sent two words to the other, but Race figured he might as well just go for it.

Antonio: wanna go to prospect l8r?

Emma : Sure! What time??

Antonio: idk, 6?

Emma: Works for me!

Antonio: I’ll pick you up then

Race checked the time, 1:07. He was then hit with a sudden nicotine craving, onset by the realization that he would be engaged in 5 hours. The maid had emptied his suitcase, meaning his pack in there was long gone (Marietta hated smoking), and upon checking his other hiding places discovered that all of his usual secret cigarette stashes were cleared.  _ Unless… _ Race lifted a rug from the floor and lifted a loose board and found what he was looking for: a very old, very crumpled, pack of cigarettes. They were one of the first packs he’d bought, nearly two years ago. Cracking open his window, Race lit a cigarette. It tasted horrible, but nicotine was nicotine. His parents were not big fans of smoking, and Race had taken it up in rebellion a few years ago: he needed a secret that wasn’t based on his sexuality. God, what was he going to do? Race had never liked women, it was barely in his vocabulary. What was Emma expecting from him in terms of uhh.... satisfaction?  _ Probably not much,  _ Race thought,  _ I’m supposed to be a straight guy after all.  _ He smiled to himself, and then scolded himself for smiling. This was serious, he wasn’t allowed to break Emma’s heart, lest he find himself the way of cousin Marco, and Race was pretty sure being gay was a very easy way to break a girl’s heart. The window frame was suddenly supporting all of Race’s weight.

“Why couldn’t I just have been straight…” Race asked himself quietly.

Race was pretty sure the proposal only happened in Emma’s memory. Everyone was regaled by the romantic story as soon as the couple appeared at their party, where Race finally snapped out of the haze he had been in since 4 o’clock. He did not remember picking Emma up, he didn’t remember walking through the park, and he certainly did not remember getting down on one knee. The party itself was far too over-stimulating that Race ended up just letting Emma guide him through the interactions, her arm looped on his to show off her shiny new engagement ring. Everytime Race glanced at the ring his stomach turned, but smiled helpfully for Emma. He was halfway through nodding through a conversation with Emma’s grandmother when he noticed a familiar face in the crowd. Race excused himself and crossed the room.

“Katherine! I didn’t know you were going to be here.” The red head turned around, a smile on her face. The grin faltered for a second when she saw who  it was.

“Race! What are you doing here?” She grabbed his hands, excited to see her old friend. They had met as kids, their families running in the same circles. One day Race had just stopped seeing her around altogether, until 5 years ago when she had turned up to work for the family as a freelancer. Race wasn’t sure what exactly she did, but he knew that they were allies and Race liked to think of her even as a friend.

“It’s my engagement party, Kath, I think I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking that question. I didn’t know you were on the guest list.”

“It was a surprise to me too. I had no idea why I was being invited to this random engagement party, but this makes sense.” There was a hidden edge in her words, but Race felt it wasn’t directed at him.  _ Then who? _ Race’s thoughts were interrupted by Emma approaching him and forcing to engage in social protocol.

“Katherine, I don’t know if you’ve met my uh- fiancee, Emma Colton. Emma, this is Katherine Plumber.” He introduced the two, and they shared a polite handshake. Emma seemed to size up Katherine, as if she was a potential threat to her relationship. Before she finished her evaluation, Katherine spoke up, and grabbed a nearby arm from the passing crowd.

“This is my boyfriend, Jack Kelly. It’s nice to meet you.” Jack smiled awkwardly at Emma, before just staring wide-eyed at Race with a mouthful of shrimp.  _ What. The. FUCK. _ Race was at a loss for words, fortunately Emma continued the social niceties.

“Likewise. You two know each other?” Emma asked, gesturing between the two stunned boys. Neither had a response.

“They go to school together, same dorm even.” Katherine explained.

“Oh, Antonio,” Emma tugged on his arm. “Did I ever ask you if you knew my brother? One of you must, he’s in Kennedy.”

“Uh, Kennedy is pretty big, and I don’t know anyone by the name ‘Colton’” Race replied, smiling weakly.

“Me neither.” Jack added. He looked at Race for a moment, mouthing the question “Antonio?”. Race looked between the girls.

“Actually, speaking of school, I have something to discuss with Jack, if you’ll excuse us.” A kiss on the cheek was Emma’s reply and Katherine just gave him a nod before wandering off, leaving Jack and Race alone.

“What the hell?” They asked in unison.

“You’re dating Katherine?”

“You’re engaged?

“You’re dating Katherine Plumber?”

“Your name is Antonio?”

“You’re dating Katherine “The Ace” Plumber?”

“You work with Kath?”

“You know what she does?”

“What the shit, man? Since when are you this cool?” Race was taken aback by the comment. “Also, what happened to ‘Racetrack’?”

“You.. you really didn’t think my name was ‘Racetrack’, did you?” Jack’s silence answered the question. Race laughed. “When you’re in our business it’s not exactly wise to go around flaunting your real name.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not- wait. What do you think Katherine does?”

“You guys are voice actors.” Race opened his mouth put no words came out. “You are, voice actors, right?”

“Um, yeah, sure. So, how long have you been... dating Kath?”

“A year. She knows about David and Crutchie, if that's what your asking. She’s got a roommate on her own, Davey’s sister, actually. Does Emma know…” Jack trailed off, the question was clear enough to Race.  _ Does your fiancee know that you’re gay? _

“Ah, no, the engagement is complicated enough without that bit.”

“Fair enough, I lucked out with Katherine. Her father wanted her with a man and I get to go to fancy shindigs like this one. But Jesus, I don’t think I’d ever marry her for it.”

“Marriage was exactly my idea, like I said, complicated.” Race restated. Jack seemed to nod sympathetically. Jack opened his mouth to ask another question but was interrupted by Katherine grabbing his arm and excusing them both, leaving Race perfectly alone in the crowd. He didn’t know most of the people around him, and so thought it best to go find Emma.

It didn’t take long, he found her at the champagne table, collecting two glasses, she offered him one, then grabbed a third. Race took a sip,  _ not too bad _ .

“I told my brother I’d grab him one.” She explained. Emma’s face suddenly lit up. “You have to meet him! Follow me.”

Champagne flute in hand, Race followed her, weaving through the sea of people.

“What did you say his name was?” Race asked, barely keeping up. Emma  barely turned her head to reply

“Scotty!” She waved to someone, beckoning them over. Emma smiled brightly at Race. “Although you should probably just call him Scott, he can be pretty intimidating.”

For a moment, Race had thought she had said “Spot”, but that would have been too big of a coincidence to believe. The party had already had too many plot twists for him. He had a gut feeling meeting this Scott guy wasn’t going to go well, and so drained his glass of champagne for good luck. There was a very real possibility he would find his future brother-in-law more attractive than his fiancee. By the time the drink was gone, Scott was standing right in front of them, accepting a glass and a hug from Emma. He was shorter than Race expected, but a big kid. Race could see the family resemblance.

_ Oh, fuck me. _ Race thought.

It was Spot, in all his dumb, muscular, looks-way-too-good-in-that-suit glory. The second eye contact was made, Race could feel his heart leap into his throat. It took him a second to find his voice.

“Hey, Spot.” Race’s voice was weak and he could hear his heartbeat. Part of him wasn’t even surprised that this would happen to him, given his rotten luck. Spot stared back at him, equally in a trance.

“ _ Race _ ?” He asked. The stimulating conversation was interrupted by a ping and an urgent buzz coming from Race’s pocket. He slowly checked his phone, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Spot, who was trying to find the words.

**Run.**

The text had come. Race threw the glass on the nearest flat surface and bolted, going as fast as he could without alarming the others at the party. His vision seemed hyper focused as he wove his way through the crowd. Someone shouted his name but Race barely noticed it, he concentrated on getting away from the party. He needed to get out of there, keep these people out of danger, keep  _ Spot _ out of danger. His mind raced alongside his heart, his body going on autopilot. It seemed to take a long time to navigate his way through the house, each step going slower. Race listed into a body, supporting himself on the shoulder. The person turned, Race felt they should have been familiar, his name passed through the mans lips, but Race couldn’t hear him.  _ Oh, fuck.  _ Race pushed his way towards the door, crashing through it and into the chest of yet another large man. The last thing Race saw before he passed out from whatever drug he had been given, was an old gray face with an immaculate moustache. Race had seen the man in a photograph once, but he would recognize that face anywhere.  _ Pulitzer. _

 

Race came to in a dark musty room. For a moment he thought he had gone blind. Before Race’s eyes adjusted he became aware of the ropes tying his arms behind his back and the uncomfortable chair he was sitting in. Something was digging into his side, he wasn’t sure what it was. When Race could see, there wasn’t much to look at. He was alone, if the rest of his family had been taken, they certainly weren’t put in the same room as him. There was no door the Race could see, just concrete walls. Race shuffled his chair until he found the door. The door had no windows and let in no light. The room was miniscule, Race thought it must have originally been a broom closet or something the like.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, waiting for either to be freed, or tortured, or killed, but it gave him ample time to think. Think about his fate, whether they would kill him or not, what would the first thing he’d do be if he survived. He thought about his biggest regrets, the best moments of his life, the worst. Spot was a part of most of these thoughts. The worst was Spot thinking he was addicted to coke, the best was that day on the roof. He regretted not telling Spot how much he cared for him. The first thing he would do if he escaped would be to tell him just that. The idea that he might not be able to do that brought tears to his eyes, but he willed himself not to cry. Crying would do him no good.

Race must have fallen asleep at some point, as he was woken up by a harsh light. It was the same room, but now he had company: two large men that were nearly identical save for one greasy moustache. They had turned his chair back around, facing away from the door.

“Where’s the money?” The one with the moustache asked. Pulitzer’s obsession with his missing cocaine money was ridiculous, it had happened when Race was just a kid. No doubt it had been lost to the sands of time and investments ages ago.

“Like I’d know” Race’s voice was hoarse. He coughed, trying to clear it

“Come on, kid. We know that you know. What’d ya do for your fathe’, Antonio?”

“More than you’ve ever done for yours.” Race got a punch in the face for that one, hard to his right cheekbone.

“Ya dealt drugs, right? So, we’ll ask again: where’s the money?” The non-mustachioed one circled Race and chuckled. “And we’s been given permission to handle you however we see fit.”

The man standing in front of him smirked, arms crossed.

“An’ we’s already killed one person today.” He leaned in close enough for Race to smell the onion on his breath. “I don’t think daddy’s goin’ to help ya today.. or ever again.”

Race felt a pang of fear go through him, and then a wave of relief. And then guilt for feeling that relief. His father was dead. These guys weren’t above killing, but also… Race was free from his father.

“ANSWER! Where’s the money?” The man behind him cuffed his over the ear and brought Race back to reality.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know. That was way before my time. Most likely the money’s already gone, invested in many different streams. You guys are too late, you’ll never get it back. Fuckin’ idiots.” Race knew he shouldn’t have added the last bit, but he couldn’t help himself. The men were on short enough fuses, that one of them threw him and his chair across the room, breaking the chair. The other man finished him off with a swift kick to the nose, which sent Race’s head flying back into the wall and into the abyss of unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate title: how many plot twists can I shove into one chapter


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot goes on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than normal but yknow... sometimes it be like that...

Spot couldn’t help but volunteer when his father called up a group of men to go after the Bellaccios. He needed to see Race again, there were so many questions and… feelings...to discuss. Besides, he told himself, volunteering to help Emma’s fiance scored him brownie points. The hardest part of the mission was pretending that he didn’t really care.  _ Ah, yes, of course I will help find (looks at hand) Antigonish Guantanamo and his family _ . Spot stifled a smile and focused in on the game plan his father was explaining.

John Colton had laid out a map of Manhattan, circling the possible locations that Pulitzer could have taken the Bellaccios. The most likely location was a foreclosed house some of Pulitzer’s old contacts had been seen frequenting. The plan was, in essence, short and simple: The majority of the guys would hit and sweep the house and the rest would split up between the other likely locations. Shoot on sight, take no hostages; the Colton way. Spot surveyed the faces surrounding the map, most were older than him, half their own men, half the Bellaccio’s. The general tone was one of duty and honour, they were to save this family because they were their boss, or else because no one was going to take over the city they’d held control of for so long. No one seemed scared, most of the men were hardened criminals, this wasn’t their first rodeo. Spot saw one other kid his age, clearly terrified to his wits end, but still putting on a brave face. It made Spot feel slightly better about himself, not being the youngest and most inexperienced in the room. Sure, he had worked for his father before, but it was more on the tax collecting and intimidation side of things rather than breaking and entering, but it surely couldn’t be that different, right?

“Now you three,” John pointed to three men across the table, including the nervous looking youngin. “Find out the cause of this breach. Negligence is against their whole  _ Regole di Famiglia _ , so find out who fucked up and make them pay. Even if it’s one of our guys- scratch that, especially if it’s one of our guys.” 

The three men left the room, returning upstairs to where the party had semi-disbanded. Spot watched his father mutter under his breath and rub at his eyes, suddenly showing his age. John motioned for everyone to suit up and get in the van. Spot grabbed a bullet-proof vest and a gun from his cousin before jumping in with the guys. His father had mentioned the  _ Regole di Famiglia _ before the party, and mentioned that it was imperative to the merger that they followed them. No backstabbing, no assault, no cheating, no drugs.  _ Wait a minute… _ Spot had a realisation. Between these rules and his family’s business… there was a slim chance Race was actually  _ doing _ those drugs. David had simply mentioned that he had found a ton of cocaine beneath Race’s bed, and that Race was avoiding talking about it. And, Emma had mentioned that Antonio worked for his father… Spot nearly swore at himself for being that quick to judge. Race wasn’t always the brightest, but the number one rule of dealing was never never get high on your own supply, and that was a rule Race wasn’t stupid enough to break. He wasn’t ecstatic that Race had been selling drugs at school, but it was a hell of a lot better than using them. Part of him almost felt bad for being mad at Race when it was just one big misunderstanding. He had been mad at Race the last time they had had the opportunity to talk, and now there was the possibility of never seeing each other again, Spot found a lump in his throat. Would he ever be able to forgive himself if Race died thinking Spot hated him? Spot sneaked his phone out of his pocket and opened it to the message from Race he’d been ignoring.

**Race Higgins: I’m sorry.**

Spot wanted to say something back, but he was at a loss for words. How was he supposed to reply? What was he supposed to say? “I forgive you” was too serious, Spot wasn’t exactly big on emotions but...  _ Oh Fuck it. _ Spot thought. If Race might not ever see it, he might as well say what he was feeling.

**Spottie Boy: I love you**

Spot was pretty sure his heart rate jumped to 200 after sending that text, despite knowing it wasn’t going to get a response. He tucked his phone away and focused on the movement of the van, travelling towards Race and certain danger.

 

A vibration in his pocket woke him up. The room had returned to pitch darkness, only this time he was on the floor and his head was killing him. Race carefully moved himself to a sitting position. The chair was nowhere to be found but his hands were still tied together. Race patted his pockets down, and was dumbfounded that they didn’t take his belongings when they kidnapped him. He still had his phone and- Race felt something heavy in his jacket pocket hit his elbow.  _ The gun.  _ Race had forgotten that he had hidden it there, what dumb luck. He carefully drew it out of his pocket and placed it in his lap so he couldn’t lose it in the dark room. Next he retrieved his phone from his pants, hoping to God and everything holy that it wasn’t broken or dead. Once again, religion failed him. Nothing happened when he tried to turn it on, eliminating the most viable light source he had. At least he still had a gun. He had a way out.

Race must have passed out again. He never noticed his eyes adjusting or any time passing. He just leaned against the wall, gun in hand, wishing those assholes would return so he had an excuse to shoot them, and before he knew it he drifted off into a dream-space of revenge. If he did fall asleep he was awoken by shouting coming from the hallway outside of his broom closet. It took him a moment to remember where he was and the whole situation. Race’s heart quickened as the voices got louder. He gripped the gun tighter. Gunshots rang out somewhere in the building. It dawned on Race that one of two things was happening. Either a) he was being rescued or b) Pulitzer had decided to execute them all by firing squad. Race really hoped it was the first but honestly didn’t feel like it was that likely, most kidnappings in his world did not have a happy ending. Kidnappings were just murders before they had gotten the information they had wanted. Maybe someone had spilled. His mother and older sister probably knew what had actually happened with the money, though he didn’t take them as the type of people to betray the family. He didn’t want to believe that they would do something like that. His thoughts suddenly jumped to Elena, his baby sister.  _ Oh God.  _ They must have taken her as well, she had been at the party. There would be hell to pay if anything happened to her.

Race heard the door to his broom closet open and he aimed his gun towards the noise. He finally had his chance to escape. The person who opened the door didn’t turn on the lights.

“Don’t move!” Race shouted, trying to take control. He terrified, and could already feel tears forming in his eyes, but he tried his best to look menacing.

“Race!” A voice cut through the room, scratchy, deep. Race pointed the gun towards where he had thought the voice was coming from, it was difficult in the darkness.

“I will shoot, turn the lights on and get me out of here.” Race ordered.

“That’s what we’re here to do, princess.” The speaker placed his hand on Race’s arm, and recognition jolted through his body, making him drop to the floor, grabbing at the voice.

“Spot?” Race moved his hands over the man, trying to recognise him in the darkness.

“I’ve got you.” Race felt a kiss against his forehead. It was him. Race buried his face in Spot’s shoulder, breathing in his scent.

“You’re here. I- I can’t believe…” Race trailed off.

“Of course, I’ll always come for you. I can’t believe I almost lost you. I-” Spot’s voice caught.

“I love you.” Race whispered into Spot’s neck. Spot held Race tighter.

“I love you too.” Spot confessed. Another voice came from further away, clearing it’s throat. “Right, we need to get you out of here.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Race chuckled, drying his eyes. “Could we maybe turn on the lights first?”

“Um, the lights are already on, Race.”

 

Giovanni Bellaccio really was dead. The funeral was held as soon as Violetta was released from the hospital. She had sustained the worst injuries of those still alive, being the heir to her family’s business. Maria and Elena were largely ignored by Pulitzer, much to the relief of Race. He would’ve killed someone if Elena had gotten hurt. Spot and Emma stood on either side of Race at the funeral, for moral support and as a guide. Race was just glad he never had to look at his father ever again. The doctors said he may regain some light sensitivity as his brain healed, but it was unlikely he would ever be able to see as he used to.

Things were very different around the Bellaccio house after they buried Giovanni. Not just because of Race’s blindness and Violetta being in a wheelchair, Violetta had officially taken control of the family business, with help from their mother, of course. It kept them busy as hell, leaving Race to figure out being blind and to hang out with Elena and Spot, who was sleeping over pretty much every night. His mother and sister didn’t really question it, there was nothing too suspicious about two friends sharing a room. The best part was that Elena liked Spot, they got along well, especially when it came to teasing Race.

“... And the the goose bit his butt! He got a scar from it!” Elena laughed. He hated this story, he did still have the scar, he had told Spot it was from a snowboarding accident.

“I can’t believe you tried to fight a goose!” Spot teased. “I didn’t think you were that stupid!”

“Hey, I’m blind, you’re not allowed to tease me anymore.” Race could feel himself blushing. 

“God, you’re going to use that as an excuse for everything now, aren’t you?” Spot groaned. Race grinned.

“Of course.” Spot grabbed Race’s hand and squeezed it. He had become a lot more physically affectionate since Race had come home, and Elena never seemed to notice those little moments, or if she had, she wasn’t vocal enough about it for Race to know.

“Antonio.” A voice came from the door, Race jumped. How Violetta managed to continuously sneak up on him, Race had no idea.

“Elena, why don’t we get a snack?” Spot suggested, with happy agreement from the little girl. A moment after Spot and Elena’s footsteps faded out, Violetta spoke up.

“So, you and Scott, huh?” She said with a smile in her voice. Race wasn’t sure how to respond. His father had been a major homophobe, but where Violetta stood on the issue, he had no idea.

“It’s fine, Race. Just because Papa was an asshole doesn’t mean I am. Besides, I think that would be a bit hypocritical.”

“Wait, you mean…”

“What do you think happens at The Sun? There’s no guys for miles and girls have needs.” Violetta explained. Race laughed, of course his sister was bi, looking back on it, he should have seen the signs. He doubted he ever saw her sitting properly in a chair.

“What about Mama?” Race asked.

“She’s just as fine with it, in fact she suggested something interesting earlier, if you’d be okay with it.” Race raised his eyebrows. “We were just discussing the possibility of you marrying Scott for the merger instead of Emma, it seems to make a lot more sense.”

Race was astounded. He hadn’t even thought about the whole engagement situation. It was barely a question; if an engagement was to take place, would he rather marry a girl he barely knows, or his… well they never really talked about what they were, but Race figured that “boyfriends” was an apt label for their relationship. The real conundrum would be bringing up the idea to Spot, they had been together for only a few weeks, it was a bit early to propose. 

“If you want I can tell him for you, I thought that might be an awkward conversation.” Violetta suggested. It was exactly what Race was hoping for but hearing Violetta say it meant his pride stopped him from taking her up on the offer.

“I’ll talk to him. I should probably officially break things off with Emma as well.” Race paused for a moment. “That’s going to be a fun conversation.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand, Emma is a lot more relaxed than she seems. And if John gives you any trouble, just send him my way, they’re the ones that need this merger.” Violetta explained. Race wasn’t close to his older sister, but he could feel them growing closer in that moment. 

“Thank you.” He would have given her a hug, but would have had to ask for some help, and that would have ruined the casual vibe he was going for.  _ Ah, fuck it. _ Before he could open his mouth to ask, he felt his sisters arms wrap around him. It was an awkward hug, the wheelchair was still an obstacle for both of them and Race had no idea where she was vertically, but they made it work. They would all make it work.

 

Race asked Spot that night, while they were listening to a podcast together. Race laid with his head on Spot’s stomach, while his boyfriend played with his hair. He could have stayed like that forever, it felt so.. safe compared to what he had been through that week. Race paused their podcast.

“Do you know what the worst part about being blind is?”

“What?” Spot’s hand hesitated for a moment. Race grabbed his boyfriend’s other hand and gave it a small kiss.

“Not getting to see you smile again.” Race explained. Spot let out a chuckle.

“You’re such a sap.” He scoffed. Race sat up and leaned over Spot.

“You love me.” Race teased. Spot planted a quick peck on Race’s lips.

“I do.” Spot admitted, giving Race another kiss on the jaw.

“That’s what you’ll say.”

“Was that a marriage joke?”

“Maybe, that’s what my meeting with Violetta was about. She thinks I should marry you instead of your sister.” Spot was silent, Race had no idea how he was reacting. “So, what do you think? Will you marry me?”

“Fuck yeah!” Spot laughed. Race leaned down to kiss his boyfriend- no-  _ fiance _ deeply. Spot responded by flipping them over, pushing Race into the bed.

The week Race spent recovering at home with his fiance was one of the best of his life. He almost forgot that they would have to go back to the real world, back to The World. All Race knew was that his life was never going back to how it was, but maybe that was for the best. Whether he would ever be able to see again didn’t really matter, as long as he had someone by his side who loved him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> final chapter! wild!

Race was not prepared to go back to The World. David had sent them the assignments they had missed, so physically, yeah, they were prepared. Race was worried about keeping up the story, he couldn’t exactly tell his friends that he got kidnapped and blinded by a rival drug lord, hell, he hadn't even told them he was blind. Violetta had decided that the easiest thing to maintain was that they had all gotten into a bad car accident, which killed his father and put his sister in a wheelchair. Spot was also supposedly in the car, which is why he had been missing the past week of school. Race thought it was a pretty feeble lie, but at least it explained everything that had happened to them. It also gave them a good reason for Race to move into Spot’s room, they told the school that it was  _ oh-so-necessary _ that Race have Spot to help re-adjust to school and dorm life, and since Spot didn’t have a roommate so Race just  _ might as well _ move in with him. They also maybe handed the school officials a minor bribe.

Race nearly tripped as soon as he got to Spot’s room. He had just put his cane away, foolishly assuming that the room would be clean and obstacle-free. Boy, was he a fool.

“Oh fuck, I didn’t clean before I left.” Spot cursed. “Stay there, I’ll tidy real quick.”

Race could hear Spot moving in a flurry around him. It made Race smile, it didn’t seem like something Spot would do for many other people.

“What are you laughing at over there?” Spot asked from somewhere on the floor.

“You’re so domestic, cleaning up for your man.” Race teased. A piece of clothing hit Race in the chest and he caught it.

“I don’t want you tripping and dying, that’d be even more of a mess to clean up.” Race could hear the scowl in his voice. Race fake swooned.

“My hero.” He joked. As he swooned, Spot fake caught him, dipping him backward and giving him a quick kiss, before stealing the piece of clothing from Race’s hand.

“The room is Race-proofed now, it’s exactly the same as it was last time you were here, except the other bed has bedding on it now.” Spot explained, taking Race’s arm and guiding it to his new bed. Race sat, then pulled Spot down to sit next to him.

“Do you remember the first time I was in here?” Spot kissed Race’s neck, who playfully shoved him away. “Not that part, the part where Snyder was doing room checks so I hid under the bed.”

Spot laughed, a sound that Race loved more than anything. Without the ability to see Spot’s smile, his laugh was that much more valuable. Race reached out to where he thought Spot’s face was, ending up with his hand under Spot’s chin. Using that as a guide, he kissed the side of his fiance’s face.

“So, should we christen my new bed?” Race asked suggestively. He felt a shift in the bed from Spot getting up. “Where are you going?”

“We left the door open.” A grin crept across Race’s face as he heard the door slam and felt his fiance return to the bed.

 

They, fortunately, weren’t interrupted until the cuddling that followed. A series of rapid bangs and shouting at the door indicated that Jack had found out they were back. Spot murmured something indistinguishable from Race’s chest.

“Spottie, I think Jack’s here. You sleepin’?” Race asked quietly, giving him a little shake. Spot rolled over and yawned.

“Not anymore. I’ll get it.” Spot offered, starting to get up. Race pushed him back down.

“I’ve got it, I’m blind, not useless. Just put some pants on.” Race felt around the ground for a shirt and jeans, not really caring if they were his or Spot’s. “Uh, sunglasses. Where’d I put them?” Race asked. He felt a piece of plastic being tapped against his hand. Race took the sunglasses from Spot and put them on. He ran his hands through his hair a few times before answering the door.

“Heyo, Jacky-boy!” Race greeted with a smile. Before they had gotten to The World, Race made a bet with Spot over how long it would take for the guys to realize that Race was blind. Spot was sure they would know immediately, Race didn’t have that much faith in them.

“Racer! Spot!” Jack shouted, pushing his way past Race and into their room.

“Good to see you safe and sound, Race. You too, Spot.” Another voice, close to Race said.  _ David. _

“Thanks, it’s good to see you, too. It’s been quite a week.” Race replied, smiling to himself over his use of the word “see”. “Come in, take a seat.”

He gestured for the other boy to enter and heard another set of footsteps behind David, no, not quite a set. Race could hear a set of crutches, which meant Crutchie was there too! Man, was he getting good at the whole blind thing!

“What’s with the sunglasses there, buddy?” Jack asked. Race adjusted them self-consciously.

“We had a going away party last night, I went just a bit too hard.” Race rubbed his head as if he had a headache.

“Is that why your shirt is inside out, backward, and also Spot’s?” Crutchie asked. Race could hear Spot chuckling.

“That is quite possible.” Race replied. He realized he was stuck standing, as he had no idea where his friends were sitting, and he didn’t want to risk losing the bet by accidentally sitting on someone.

“How did the crash even happen?” David asked quietly. Race opened his mouth to say something but immediately forgot the story.

“Some idiot ran a red and T-boned us. We lucked out, we were on the other side of the car.” Spot explained, coming to Race’s rescue. “Racer’s got a solid concussion and some bruises, but otherwise we’re fine.”

“Damn,” Jack said.

“We’re just looking forward to everything getting back to normal.”

“Well if you’re looking for normal, tonight  _ is _ movie night,” Crutchie suggested. Race almost laughed.

“Yeah, I’d love to watch a movie with you guys. What are we watching tonight?”

“Have you seen To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, yet?” Jack asked, clearly indicating he had found his latest rom-com obsession. Race wanted to laugh so bad. This was too funny.

“No, I haven’t seen that one.” Spot burst out laughing as soon as the word ‘seen’ came out of Race’s mouth, and turned it into a coughing fit.

“Anyway, I would love to watch that movie with you guys tonight. It was great seeing you guys, but I’ve got some work to catch up on. I will see you later!” Race said, trying to incorporate as many blind jokes as he possibly could in the sentence, Spot was still having a choking fit across the room. “And I should probably see if he’s dying.”

Their friends made their goodbyes and left, David shut the door behind him, leaving the two boys to burst out into laughter. Race fell on the floor, clutching his stomach.

“Fuck… You…” Spot spat out between breaths. Race heard his fiance slip off the bed to the ground in laughter.

“Already did, Spotty, you really ready for round two?” Race joked, lying on his back in the middle of the floor. Spot smacked his arm.

“Shaddup.”

 

Race didn’t bring his cane to movie night either. He still wanted to see how long it would take for his friends to realize, and judging from the fact that none of them had realized yet was an indicator that Race could pretend to watch the rom-com and no one would suspect. Besides, it was a nice excuse to hold Spot’s arm. After they had settled in Jack and Crutchie’s room, Spot whispered to Race who all was present. Romeo, Finch, and Specs were on the ground, Albert was on the other side of Spot, Mush was on the other side of Race, Jack, David, and Crutchie were situated on the other bed as per usual. The evening was going well, no one even questioned Race’s sunglasses, either through believing he was hungover or understanding that concussions can cause some unbelievable light sensitivity. Then Mush ruined everything.

“What’s with the ring?” Mush asked, leaning into Race’s side. Race turned his head towards him, unaware that he almost headbutted Mush in doing so.

“What ring?” Race asked.

“The one on Spot’s left ring finger” Mush elaborated, he nudged Race’s arm. “What are you, blind?”

“Oh, right, I forgot to mention: we’re engaged.” Spot explained. Race choked,  _ since when did Spot have an engagement ring? _ . It wasn’t exactly something he had been planning on telling his friends, like maybe eventually, but it would open too many questions about why, leading to questions about family, and so on. But, Race trusted Spot to come up with a good reason. The reaction to the news was like Spot had dropped a nuclear bomb. Romeo screamed, Mush accidentally slapped Race, and he was pretty sure Crutchie fell off his bed.

“You’re fucking with me.” Jack was the first to string together a coherent sentence.

“No, I’m fucking with him.” Spot joked. The room burst into laughter before Race and Spot were bombarded with questions, most of which Race let Spot answer. He was matter-of-fact and a good liar, he was perfect, but Race couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison to the engagement party with Spot’s twin. Spot actually mostly told the truth, that Race proposed when they were just hanging out at home, the reason they were engaged was that it was political and partially arranged, that originally Race was supposed to have married Spot’s sister, but then the car accident happened and their parents decided that after all the trauma it would be best to let them have each other. Everyone’s questions hummed to silence and Jack started up the movie. A few minutes in, Mush spoke up. 

“Wait a minute. Pause the movie. Race, are you... blind?” Mush asked again, with complete sincerity. Everyone went quiet, awaiting his answer.

“Damn it, I was hoping to get through the movie before you guys figured it out.” Race cursed, the room was silent, save for Spot who had started laughing. “Are you guys just staring at me in awe? Because that’s what it feels like you’re doing.”

“You didn’t tell us you were blind?” David asked, sounding slightly offended.

“Spot and I made a bet to see how long it would take for you guys to realize that I can’t see. ” Race explained with a shrug. 

“What the fuck, man.” Someone said.

“I had faith in you guys. Race has only been blind for a week and he still managed to trick everyone. Honestly, this is on you.” Spot said, stretching his arm around his fiance. The room was still silent.

“Is this why you were laughing so hard when we were asking if you wanted to watch a movie?” Jack asked. Race could feel Spot laughing, his ribs jumping up and down against Race’s side.

“... Maybe.” A pillow hit Race in the face. Everything truly was back to normal.

 

“I hate that we have to come all the way up here to smoke.” Race complained, puffing on his cigarette. He wrapped his jacket tighter around himself, wincing against the cold wind. The rooftop was one of the only places that kids could smoke without getting in huge shit, the rooms didn’t have good enough ventilation and anywhere else teachers would get them suspended. He didn’t mind it nearly as much when he could see, the rooftop did have an amazing view that made the cold air worth it.

“It’s good to get out of the room though, for something other than classes. Lord knows if it wasn’t for smoke breaks we’d never leave.” Spot bumped into Race, teasing him. Race threw an arm around his neck and kissed his head.

“You’ve got a point.” They were silent for a moment. “Hey, Spottie… Can I ask you a favour?”

“Sure.”

“Can you describe the view for me?” Race asked quietly.

“Of course, Racer.” Spot took a breath, unsure of where to start. “There’s a bit more green on the trees, but they haven’t all bloomed yet. The sun is starting to go down, the sky is slowly turning orange in the west, there are a few clouds, and they look like cotton candy, all pink and purple. The rest of the sky is a pastel blue that reminds me of your eyes. JV football is practicing on the field, they’re fucking horrible, I don't know what they’re going to do once I graduate.” Spot cleared his throat. “There are a few birds, swallows I think, flying over Lincoln, they’re chasing each other, it’s kind of cute. The pond looks like glass, it’s so still. Nobody’s swimming, but there’s a kid sitting with a friend, reading, on the shore. I can see your old room, the lights are on and the curtains are open. Jack and David are slow dancing like the old married couple they are.” Spot chuckled. Race stood still for a moment, drinking in the scene and Spot’s voice. He didn’t have a soft voice, but the soft words warmed Race’s heart.

“I’m glad I have you.”

“Me too.” Spot patted the hand Race had wrapped around him. “We should probably get back to work.”

Race groaned but accepted the ruling. They automatically linked hands as they moved towards the roof exit. Race smiled. He rarely had to use his cane, Race usually had Spot to guide him, even when he didn’t really need it. It was a good excuse to stay close to Spot.

“At least we know there will be one responsible person in our marriage.” Race joked. Spot stopped suddenly and race nearly tripped.

“We’re getting married.” Spot stated, he seemed shocked but not upset.

“We are getting married.” Race agreed, giving his fiance’s hand a quick squeeze. Spot’s sudden hesitation was making him nervous. Spot squeezed his hand back, spreading a smile across Race’s face. He felt Spot press a kiss against his cheek.

“How on earth did that happen?”

“Unbelievable luck.”

“Luck? Is that what we’re going to tell our kids?”

“Bold of you to assume that we’re going to have kids.”

~~

“And that’s the story of why we got married at 18, kiddo.” Race finished, grabbing his husbands hand.

“So, Papa was engaged to Auntie Emma, and when you guys found out, Papa was kidnapped and blinded, so Zia Violetta let you marry Dad instead? Sounds like just another one of your stories.” Maria complained. It wasn’t the first time she had asked to hear the story and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Don’t forget that we were roommates,” Spot added. Race smirked.

“Oh my god, you were roommates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry, couldnt resist the meme


End file.
